“Thank fuck,” he says, quickly pushing off the desk and striding toward me.
He holds my face in his hands like I’m precious as his lips descend, and he claims my mouth in a searing-hot kiss that curls my toes and kindles an inferno inside me.
24
CRISTIAN
Idevour her, holding her stunning face in my hands as I worship her lips like I’ve been longing to for the past two weeks. Sloane kisses me back with the same passion, readily parting her lips and letting my tongue slip inside. One hand leaves her face as I band my arm around her back and pull her flush against my body. Tilting her head back a little, I sweep my tongue around her mouth as my lips take and take and take. My blood heats, and my cock jerks against my zipper as I gyrate my hips and grind against her.
I want to strip every item of clothing from her gorgeous body, lie her down on the rug in front of the fire, part her tempting thighs, and slide home. Precum leaks from the tip of my dick as I make love to her mouth, needing more, more, more. My hand creeps under the back of her pajama top, and sparks fly across my skin the instant my fingers meet her satiny-smooth flesh.
My need for her is at an all-time high, and I couldn’t stop this if I tried. Pushing her back until her ass hits the side of the couch, I continue perusing her warm skin, circling around to her stomach and moving higher. Our tongues tangle as our kissing grows frantic, and she’s meeting me every step of the way, her fingers digging into my ass through my dress pants.
When I brush the underside of her tits, she moans into my mouth, arches her back, and thrusts her breasts forward. The hard peaks of her nipples crush against my chest as she squeezes my ass and whimpers. “Cristian.”
Palming one tit, I roll my thumb around her stiff nipple and grip her waist on the other side, freezing instantly when she winces. I rip my swollen lips from hers and remove my hands from her body, struggling to get my breathing under control. “You’re hurt,” I pant.
“It’s only a little bruising,” she says in a breathless tone.
What the fuck was I thinking throwing myself at her like this after everything that’s happened tonight? I was pretty rough when I threw her to the ground as gunshots rang out, and it’s obvious she’s injured but downplaying it.
Pulling her over to the desk, I angle the desktop lamp so we’re bathed in light.
Sloane gasps, and her eyes widen in alarm. “You’re bleeding!” Panic is etched upon her face as she tentatively raises a hand to my left arm.
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“It isnotnothing,” she protests, straightening up. Stretching my arm out, she frowns at the large pool of blood staining my white dress shirt. “Hold still,” she demands, removing my cuff link, unbuttoning the cuff, and carefully rolling the sleeve up. I close my eyes as my skin tingles from her touch. My cock is digging into my zipper painfully, silently screaming in need.
So much for staying away from the nanny.
I barely lasted two weeks.
She sucks in another gasp when she reaches the wound. “Oh my god. You were shot.” Horror splays across her face as she examines the bloody gash on my upper arm.
“It only grazed me. It looks worse than it is.”
“I need to clean it and put some antiseptic on.”
“It’s fine, Sloane. I can handle it.”
“Shut up, Cristian.” She glares at me, and it only turns me on more. “Where can I find a first aid kit?”
I peer into her determined eyes before my gaze drops to her mouth. Her lips are all red and swollen from my kisses, and I like it a lot more than I should. “Fuck.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like that.”
“Don’t.” She moves a step closer, and fire blazes in her eyes. “Do not say you regret it. I’ll give you a matching wound in your other arm if you do.”
A chuckle rumbles from my throat. “I wasn’t going to say that,” I truthfully admit. “But I didn’t give you a choice, I just?—”
“Shut. Up. Cristian.” That seems to be her new mantra. She prods one finger into my chest. “I wanted it. You know I did. Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me where the first aid kit is.”
“You should find one in the bottom drawer of Dad’s desk,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.
“That’s a strange place to keep it.” She rounds the desk and bends down.
“Not really.” I have a lot to tell her. There’s no keeping who we are—who I am—a secret any longer, but it’s not a conversation I want to have at three a.m. when we’re both sore and tired. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
Hugging the box to her chest, she nods before walking back around to me. She sets the kit down on the desk and takes my hand, pressing the cuff link into my palm. “I’ll get some water and a cloth.” She takes a couple of steps back, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “You, ah, should remove your shirt,” she blurts before spinning around and racing out of the room.
