I scooped her into my arms with a groan and headed for the bedroom.
46
CASSIE
I couldn’t stop kissinghim, and I held tightly to his neck as he carried me down the hall, our tongues at war as we fought to devour each other.
He kicked open the half-open bedroom door and entered my room, glowing in the soft light of the afternoon sun seeping through the closed shades.
He stared down at me. “I didn’t want it to be me.”
I slid my fingers into his long hair and tightened my hold on the silky strands. “I want it to be you.”
He groaned and kissed me again, his tongue mapping my mouth in fevered strokes and sweep, his arms tight around my suspended body.
He was breathing heavy when he finally pulled away to set me down. He held my face in his hands as he looked down at me, ran his palms down my neck and over my shoulders, up the sides of my body and over my tits, like was trying to learn me.
Like he was trying to memorize me.
Then he reached for the hem of my T-shirt and pulled it over my head. He tossed it aside and unclasped my bra, then looked down at my tits with a sigh.
He cupped them in his hands, running his thumbs over my erect nipples, and lowered his head to take one in his mouth.
I gasped when the heat of his tongue hit my nipple, and I reached back to hold his head in place, closing my eyes as pleasure washed over my body.
His amber-rimmed eyes were glassy when he lifted his head. “I’m going to know every inch of you, Cass.”
I shivered at the sound of my nickname on his lips. It was as familiar to me as my own face in the mirror, but hearing this big, inked man saw it with so much tenderness, so much wanting, made it sound sacred.
He reached for the button on my jeans, unzipped them, then kneeled to pull them from my hips, taking my underwear with them.
He tossed those aside too, then buried his face against my mound.
He wrapped his arms around my thighs and inhaled deeply. “I’m drunk on you.”
He stood and scooped me into his arms again, then tossed me onto the bed.
Laughter bubbled from my throat as I bounced, and I scooted back on the bed and watched as he pulled his black T-shirt over his head.
It was the first time I’d had the luxury of staring at his tattoos, and I caught snippets of the images: dark angry birds with long talons, a thick broken chain, shards of shattered glass.
They told a story. I just wasn’t sure what it was yet — how it began, how it ended — and I let my gaze roam over the defined bulge of his biceps, the swell of his sculpted pecs, the flat plan os his stomach.
He pulled off his jeans (if he’d even wearing underwear I hadn’t seen them) and threw those aside too.
Then he was standing in front of me like a god, his black hair brushing his shoulders, his body an inked and sculpted homage to perfection.
His dick was so wide I was almost scared looking at it, but any fear I felt at the thought of being invaded by him was eclipsed by the throb of desire pulsing between my legs.
He climbed onto the bed and stretched out over my body, looking down at me with an expression I couldn’t define.
Confusion? Worry? Anguish?
Maybe all of those.
He lowered his mouth to mine and I sensed restraint in the tender sweeps of his tongue.
But it couldn’t last. I already knew restraint wasn’t Hawk’s thing, and I was glad when the kiss turned urgent and frenzied, my tits smashed against his chest, his thick dick teasing my clit.
