Page 125 of These Summer Storms

“You seem very angry at my clothes.”

“I am,” he said, pulling up the hem of her dress, drawing her tighter to him. “I’m fucking furious at them for being on.”

He sounded it, too. Like he wanted to tear them off her. Like he would, if he weren’t holding himself on such a tight leash.

She didn’t want him on the leash, though. She didn’t want him controlled. She wanted him out of control.

“So take them off.”

He leaned down and kissed her neck, hot and lush. “Stay right here.”

He went to the door and flipped the lock before activating the electric privacy shades on the windows. She watched him move around the room with the same intensity he did everything, and everything in her coiled, as she considered what else he might use that focus on. Thinking about where he might put his hands, his lips. Other things.

When he returned to her, she said, “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For keeping me safe.”

He looked like he might say something in the moment but changed his mind, instead kissing her again, slow and delicious, as though now that he’d ensured their privacy, he had all the time in the world.

And then she was naked, pulling him toward her, suddenly desperate for him.

“Wait. I want a look,” he said.

Alice was on fire, aware of his gaze tracking over her skin, as she resisted the urge to cover herself—all the soft bits that should have been muscled, the puckered bits that should have been smooth.

When she couldn’t take it anymore and moved to cover herself, he let out one of those low, disapproving growls and stopped her, touching her himself, instead, stroking up her legs, over her ankles, tracing the insides of her thighs, the soft swell of her belly, the undersides of her breasts.

He pressed a kiss to the base of her neck, inhaling deeply before he pulled back and said, “You smell like summer.” His tongue licked over her pulse. “Like salt and surf and the sun. Like long days and lazy nights.”

She sucked in a breath, covering the way her stomach flipped at the words with an attempt at humor. “That doesn’t sound like something a villain says.”

“It is when it’s the truth,” he replied. “Fuck, Alice—” He lifted a hand and shoved it through his hair, a small, secret smile ghosting over his face, like he’d just won a prize. “You’re perfect.”

His hands stroked over her skin again, the backs of his fingers finding the hard points of her nipples. When she thought she might scream out of frustration, he leaned down and took the tip of one breast into his mouth, sucking gently until she thought she might scream from pleasure.

Silence was not easy, however, and he lifted his head, beautiful eyes flashing, to say, “There is nothing I want more than to hear every noise you’ve got, but if you’re going to let me do this to you—you’re going to have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

The rule shouldn’t have been so sexy. She threw him a little, questioning smile and whispered, “What are you going to do to me?”

His brows shot together, focused, and she wondered if this was Jack Dean, legendary fixer. He leaned in and kissed her again, rough and deep.

She unbuttoned his shirt, stroking over the dusting of hair on hischest, the ink spread over it—she still hadn’t had time to look at those tattoos—it had been too dark the night in the motel, too frenzied. But now, there was so much to look at. And she would. She was already making plans to look at it. But first, her touch slid down to his waistband, her fingers tucking inside—

“Not yet,” he said. “I have other plans.”

“Are you sure?” she asked. “My plans are pretty good.”

“I think you’ll agree mine are better,” he said, and then he lowered himself to his knees between her thighs. He was right. His were better.

His hands were tracing over soft skin, pressing her wide. He was watching her open to him, and she’d never seen anything so sexy. Never seen anyone look so hungry.

Unable to stop herself, she flexed, tilting her hips, adjusting to the nearly unbearable ache within her, and his attention shot to her face as his hands stroked again, rougher now, back and forth, until they found the tight curls at her core, and he teased her, “You need something?”

She flexed again, and his touch lightened.

“Say it.”