Page 74

His hands find my ass.

He lifts me into his arms and carries me to the bed.

Gently, he lays me down on my back.

I look up at him.

This place we’ve been a million times. But never like this. Not remotely like this.

I reach for his shirt. Get the soft wool of his jacket.

He wraps his hands around my wrists and lifts them over my head.

My body complies of its own accord. It has no concerns about relinquishing control.

As long as he touches me.

God, I need him to touch me.

Like he can read my mind, he kisses me hard, his tongue curling around mine as he lowers himself onto the bed.

The weight of his body sinks into mine, pressing me into the bed, holding me steady.

This is dangerous.

And I don’t care.

I kiss him back, hooking my legs around his hips, pulling his body into mine.

He’s hard against me and that feels so fucking good.

I need it.

All of it.

When I break our kiss, I’m panting.

I look him in the eyes and the words fall off my lips. “I thought you didn’t like bad girls.”

“How could that possibly be true?” He slips a hand under my skirt. “I was madly in love with you.”

“You didn’t know I could kill a man with my bare hands.”

“Now, I do,” he says, in a tone that’s all approval.

I should probably question it.

But I don’t.

He holds my arms in place as he traces a line up my thighs with his fingertips.

Closer and closer and there⁠—

His palm goes flat against me.

All that heat and pressure and promise.

He holds me there for a moment, making me wait, building the tension between us.