Page 322 of A Matter of Time

My whole body was tingling. “Yes,” I managed to get out.

“You know,” he sighed, kissing my shoulder and the side of my neck, his hand sliding down over my ass and squeezing. “You’re the only person I’ve ever wanted to actually eat.”

“Go ahead.” I exhaled deeply. “Eat me.”

“Christ,” he groaned. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you, Jory. It scares the shit outta me, I swear to God.”

“Just stay with me.”

I heard his breath hitch. He sounded like he was in pain.

“Lie down and hold me.”

Instantly, he was spooned around me and I was wrapped up in hot, smooth skin and hard, heavy muscle. He buried his face in my shoulder, and his chest and groin were pressed to my back and ass.

“I need to get up and make some calls,” I announced as my eyes drifted closed.

“No, just rest.”

“I haven’t even done anything,” I reminded him before I let out a long yawn.

“Well, you’re going to rest, because you’re not leaving the apartment. I packed a bag, so I ain’t leaving either. I’ll order Chinese when we wake up and have it delivered.”

I laughed. “We’re just gonna hole up here, huh?”

“When we get up, we’re gonna talk. You’re gonna hate it.”

“I could never hate talking to you.”

His deep, rumbling chuckle put goose bumps all over my skin. “We’ll see.”

He was right. Being interrogated, especially since I was in love with the guy doing it, was the worst.

“I don’t know,” I growled at him, covering my face with the pillow.

“Think, J,” he ordered, pulling the pillow away from me, propping himself up on one arm, and resting his chin on his hand as he stared down at me. “Who hates you?”

“You, obviously,” I groaned, rolling away from him to lie on my stomach. “For crissakes, Sam, you’ve been drilling me for, like, two hours already and we’re just going around in circles. I don’t know, okay?”

His hand slid over my ass and squeezed hard. The motion gave me hope.

“Sam?”

“What?”

“You wanna drill me hard?”

“Quit.” He patted my ass before his hand slid higher, to the small of my back.

“Maybe I should put your name on me, huh? Ink it right there where your hand is?”

“What? A tramp stamp? Hell no. If I put my name on you, it goes on the back of your right shoulder where I bite you every time I’ve got you down on your hands and knees.” I felt him tremble against me.

“Let’s go do it,” I said, laying my head down on the cool sheet.

“Yeah? I can put my name on you?”

“Yes, Sam.”