Home > My Sinful Love (Sinful Men #4)(8)

My Sinful Love (Sinful Men #4)(8)
Author: Lauren Blakely

Sublime.

My heart ticked again, catching up as I swept my tongue over her lower lip. She murmured. Soft, like a purr. That sound was new from her. She’d always been quiet.

And she’d once liked lingering kisses that were like melting chocolate, like the rising sun. Our kisses had been easy and carefree. They’d turned me on, riled me up, and made me want so much more of her. They were tongues and lips and mouths and heat.

But now, there were teeth.

Hers.

She pressed her teeth against my lower lip and drew it into her mouth like she was trying to suck on it, and with that, whatever wisp of apprehension she’d seemed to feel moments ago must have evaporated. My thoughts spun out of control, slipping into darker, more urgent territory. I moved my hand from her hair, held her face, and angled my mouth over hers, resuming control of the kiss and devouring her lips.

I drew the corner of her mouth into mine and nipped her. Her murmurs intensified. Louder. Hotter.

She’d never been like this before, but now she demanded more. Her own hungry lips slanted over mine, saying Mark me.

“Oh God,” she gasped, her eyes squeezed closed.

I broke the kiss, whispering, “You okay?”

She nodded against me. “Yes. So okay.”

“Good.” I quickly moved my mouth to her jawline, kissing a trail there as I traveled along her skin. Each press brought out a tiny little growl from Annalise, a sexy sigh, a needy gasp. It made me want to rip off her clothes, push her against the wall, and see how rough she liked it. I bent my head to her collarbone and grazed the exposed flesh with my teeth. Her hands shot up, roping through my hair as she moaned. Annalise was under some kind of spell, her body moving and flowing against mine. She clutched my skull tighter, her nails digging in as I kissed her shoulder then returned to her mouth. That gorgeous red mouth. The lips I’d been obsessed with. The ones I’d memorized.

The lips I’d missed for so many years.

Like a persistent, aching hole in my chest, the missing had defined me. Propelled me. Given me a focus when I’d needed one. Now, the missing disintegrated and turned into a white-hot desire to have her. To have all of her, as I never had before. Now. Tonight. No more goddamn waiting. I pressed my forehead to hers and ran my thumb over her mouth. “It’s different now.”

She nodded. “Yes. But so good,” she said, breathless.

“Not good. It’s better.”

“It is,” she said, her eyes wild.

“Think everyone’s watching?”

She shook her head against me. “It’s Vegas. No one cares.”

“Do you care?” I whispered as I traced her lips, the sweetness of her breath on my fingertips.

“That you’re kissing me like crazy on the terrace of a nightclub in a hotel?”

“Yes.” I dragged my thumb along her teeth.

“No. I don’t care where we are,” she said, darting out the tip of her tongue to meet my thumb. Then she bit down.

My mouth twitched in a knowing grin. “No, you don’t care at all,” I said, then crushed my lips to hers, wrapping my arms around her shoulders and kissing her with everything I had. Greedy kisses that promised red swollen lips tomorrow.

This kiss was dizzying. It was a rush of blood to the head, then everywhere else. When we were younger, we’d held back because we were sixteen and foolish romantics. We’d done plenty below the waist with hands, but hadn’t come close to going all the way. Tonight, we seemed to be charging in that direction. Good. I was no fool anymore, and I was hardly romantic. I had the distinct impression life had hardened her too.

And that tonight she wanted hardness from me.

The sound of clinking glasses echoed from many feet away. The noise jarred me, and I pulled away from her briefly. I swept her hair away from her face, then bent my head to her ear. “Where are you staying?”

“Across the street. The Cosmopolitan,” she said, her voice like a torch song.

“Do you want to leave? With me?”

Her lips parted, and I felt her soft breath on my neck. I pulled back to look into her green eyes. In them, I saw a lust that matched mine, but a fear too.

“Yes,” she said, but a second later, she shook her head. Then she nodded and said, “No.”

Opposites. Okay, maybe she didn’t want the same thing.

She sighed. “I mean . . .”

I pressed my finger to her lips. No way was I pushing her into this. I wanted Annalise with a fierceness I hadn’t felt in ages, but she was either in all the way or not at all. “It’s okay. It’s good to see you.”

“Is that it? You’re just leaving?” she asked, her voice angry.

I pretended to look around. “Did I say I was leaving? Did I get up to go? I’m still here.”

“I’m sorry. This is just . . .”

“You don’t have to explain anything.”

“I know. But I don’t want you to think I don’t want to.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yes, but it’s been a . . .” She didn’t finish her thought, and I didn’t push. Changing gears, she said, “It’s late. I’m shooting tomorrow. Do you want to come by?”

“Visit you at a lingerie shoot?”

“You always used to come by my shoots.”

“You shot bands. The soccer team. The pep rallies,” I said, reminding her of her days as a yearbook photographer.

“And now I shoot beautiful women. Do you like beautiful women?”

My lips twitched, and I eyed her from head to toe. “Very much.”

“Come by,” she said, her fingers darting out quickly to touch my cheek for a moment. “I want to see you again before I go.”

I swallowed dryly, but didn’t ask when she was leaving. I’d rather linger on the feeling of her hand on my face instead.

“Give me the time and place.”

She told me where, then added, “Tomorrow at one. You can see the end of the shoot, and maybe we can . . .”

Her words went unfinished.

Whatever she meant, I wasn’t in the business of filling in her thoughts. All I knew was one taste wasn’t nearly enough to forget her.

 

 

8

 

 

Annalise

 

 

The elevator was too loud, too bright, too full of people.

As the couple in the far corner waxed on about their dinner of small plates and the fratty guys by the number keypad debated how many more shots they could plow through, I asked myself how long I could wait.

I’d been on ice, cryogenically frozen in a state of suspended animation for two years. My body was still working, going through the motions, one foot in front of the other.

But inside? Beneath my skin?

All those parts had been dormant.

Turned off.

Now, I was turned all the way on. I was like one of those blow-up balloons in an old cartoon, shooting through the air, ready to pop. I was sure everyone in the elevator saw the desire written all over my skin. But as the car shot up past the tenth, eleventh, and twelfth floors, they remained in their own worlds.

I wanted my own world now. I wanted to live in the bubble of lust.

The elevator stopped on the fourteenth floor, and the couple exited. Only the guys were left, and the tall one in the crew once again stabbed the silver button for the penthouse. “They’ll be here soon. C’mon.”

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