Hisfine-as-fuckchest.
I hadn’t really paid attention to his body before. Even when he’d had his shirt off, the gaping crater in his side had stolen all the thunder. But Cheriour wasbuilt. There wasn’t an inch of fat to pinch on him. He was all muscle. Not bulky, but long, lean, hard, practical muscle. Anddamnif it wasn’t thrilling to run my fingers over the sharp planes of his chest.
He exhaled against my lips as I found his left nipple through the fabric of his shirt and circled my thumb around it. His hips bucked into mine, and his grip on my ass tightened. He’d braced his other hand on the wall beside my head, but I saw his fingers digging into the stone.
Oooh, he’d be so much fun to get undressed and in bed.
The thought of him, naked, red-faced, straining, squirming…my thighs quivered. There werethingsI wanted to do. I wondered if he’d consent to being tied up. Or blindfolded.
He flinched.
Aw, snap! Had I vocalized my dirty thoughts?
But, no, my hand had just wandered a little too far down his body.
I mean, I couldn’t blame it for having a mind of its own. Cheriour’s abs were fuckingglorious.Not the chiseled, washboard abs you’d see Chris Hemsworth touting, but they were firm. And six-packy.
And too close to his injury.
Reluctantly, I let my hand slide away, wrapping it around his lower back instead.
“Listen…” I pitched forward off the wall, ducking my head to the side, evading his kisses so I could nip his earlobe. “If it hurts, or you don’t like it, say something. Got it?”
I was so close to him, my lips now wandering down the side of his neck, I felt him gulp.
“Only if you do the same,” he said.
“Well, we won’t dothatmuch.” I dragged my teeth along the chorded muscle in his neck, reveling in his shudder. “I don’t want Quinn hunting my ass because you had a heart attack during sexy—oooh. Damn, that tickles!”
Cheriour wormed his hand in between us and made a slow pass over my stomach.
Hewouldn’t find a six-pack there. I was more like the Pillsbury Doughboy: squishy and pokable.
A low laugh reverberated through Cheriour before hefucking pokedme. Right above my belly button.
Becauseof courseI’d blurted the Pillsbury thing out loud.
So, to keep my disobedient mouth occupied, I latched my lips to his neck and sucked. Hard.
I felt his groan. That sucker came all the way from his toes. It was deep. Low. Almost a little pained, but not in abitch, you’re smashing my woundkinda way. More like he was straining for something just out of reach.
Hot. Hot. Hot.
I nipped at him, savoring the salty tang on his skin, the way his beard and hair brushed against my face, and his earthy scent—which was sweeter than it’d been before. Less oniony. He’d likely taken a quick sponge bath after waking up.
Whydid that thought turn me on goddamn much? Why dideverythingabout him turn me into a horndog? I was trying to givehimthe world’s biggest hickey, butIwas the one shaking. Sure, Cheriour responded with low grunts, letting me know what he liked, and what hereallyliked. But he was still mostly steady.
As for me…my muscles vibrated so hard, I wondered if they would burst out of my skin.
I gave him one more not-so-gentle suck, reveling in the strangled sound that reverberated through his chest, and pulled away.
It was meant to be anokay, time for a breathermoment. But he interpreted it as his turn. And how could I tell him no?
I smacked the back of my head against the wall as Cheriour turned his mouth to my neck, very obviously mimicking what I’d done to him. But softer. Slower. He suckled deeply, but not harshly. His teeth never did more than scrape. Everything was light. Measured. Careful. I’d left marks on his neck, but he would leave none on mine.
And it wasinsanehow quickly I lost my mind.
“Fuck!”I raised a hand to my brow, my fingers clenching my own hair as he pressed kisses to the outside of my ear. His beard tickled. His mouth burned. And his eyes kept watching me in that intense/impassive way of his. Like he was studying something under a microscope.
