His fingers turn over, catching mine. His thumb strokes across my knuckles, slow and deliberate.
“Karina.”
“Yeah?”
His voice is low, rough. “I don't do casual or halfway. If we do this, you're all mine. That's not negotiable.”
My breath catches. “That's very...”
“Too much?”
I shake my head. “I was going to say hot.”
He's out of his chair before I can blink, and his hands find my waist as he pulls me to my feet, flush against him. Then his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is different from the one at my door. That was claiming; this is devouring. I grip his shoulders to stay upright. His hands slide down to cup my ass, and then he's lifting me, setting me on the edge of the table. Plates clatter, but I don't care. His hardness is pressed between my thighs, and even through our clothes, I can feel how much he wants me.
“Bedroom,” I gasp.
“Sure?”
“If you stop what you’re doing, I won’t be responsible for my actions...”
He laughs, a low rumbling sound, and carries me down the hall.
His bedroom is as sparse as the rest of the house. Big bed, dark sheets, and a lamp on the nightstand. But I barely register any of it because he's lowering me onto the mattress, covering my body with his, and I can't think about anything except how good he feels.
He pulls back just long enough to yank his henley over his head and I let out an involuntary moan.
His chest is a work of art. Tan skin stretched over hard muscle, tattoos winding across his pecs and down his ribs. A trail of dark hair leads down his stomach and disappears into his jeans. I reach out and trace one of the tattoos, a snake coiled around a dagger, and his muscles jump under my fingers.
“Your turn,” he says, and his hands find the hem of my sweater.
He pulls it over my head, and I’m sitting there in my underwear with Clay looking at me like I'm a feast and he's been starving.
“Fucking gorgeous,” he mutters, kissing me again.
He reaches behind me to unhook my bra, one-handed, which is annoyingly impressive, and then his mouth closes over mynipple. I gasp, back arching off the bed. His tongue swirls and I'm already trembling.
“Clay—”
He moves to the other breast, giving it the same attention while his hand slides down my stomach. “Lift up. I want you naked, cupcake.”
I raise my hips while he tugs my jeans down, taking my underwear with them. His eyes are dark, his jaw tight, his chest rising and falling like he's been running. He doesn't say a word, just drops to his knees.
The sight of this huge, powerful man kneeling in front of me steals my breath.
“Spread your legs and lie back,” he orders.
My legs are trembling as I obey. I lie back against his pillows, and he settles his big body between my thighs.
“I’ve thinking about this,” he says, kissing a path down my stomach. “About getting my mouth on you.”
“Clay—”
“Shh.” He spreads my thighs wider, his breath hot against my core.
His mouth finds me, and I stop thinking.
