Page 60 of A Taste like Sin

My brain is more than willing to comply. My body, however, rebels.

“Please.” I flex my fingers, sending each nail into the material of his shirt. In retaliation, he jerks me

closer. Our mouths collide again, grappling for the upper hand.

No one wins. We wind up panting, openmouthed, in a standoff he decides to break by sweeping his

thumb around to the tie of my robe.

“Interesting outfit choice, Ms. Thorne,” he growls against my tongue as I curl my fingers into the

waistband of his trousers. “Can’t say I’m not impressed. Buteasy, sweet girl.” He finds my fingers

and gently moves them from his zipper. With a practiced twist of his fingers, he undoes the fastening

himself. “Let me take care of you, ¿sí? Close your eyes.”

I obey, shutting out everything but him. The ragged sound of his breathing, the rasp of his heated skin

over mine…

“That’s it,” he all but groans as my fingers brush his abdomen. “I’m not going anywhere.”

God, the hoarse sound building in his throat resonates in my bones, so much more alarming than

thunder. It’s concession.

“I propose another bargain.” He cups my chin, recapturing my mouth while his other hand fists itself

into my hair, holding me captive for every searing, searching thrust of his tongue. Against my parted

lips, he breathes, “You give me tonight. All those fears, your pain…it’s all mine.”

His deft fingers yank the material of my robe from my shoulders as he guides me back step by step.

When my knees finally brush the edge of my mattress, he eases me down and my eyes flutter open just

enough to take him in. A mixture of neon streetlights and lightning paints him in varying degrees of

blues and yellows. He’s abstract artwork too beautiful to ever own.

My fingers smooth down his torso anyway, sliding beneath his suit jacket to study him thoroughly.

Rapid heartbeat. Formidable chest that vibrates as he snarls something into my open mouth.

He tenses the lower I go. Lower. Lower.Jackpot.

“Easy,dulce niña.” A warning exhale blows from his nostrils as my fingers find what I assume is a

tailored pair of boxer briefs and… There’s no mistaking what’s beneath my palm. Heat. Fabric.

Pulsing. Danger.

A knot in my belly tightens as I peel the cotton down bit by bit—but he was right. Watching him isn’t

enough. I make myself blind again, flicking my tongue along his jaw. God, it’s like I can taste in his

skin the things my eyes alone would never reveal. The spicy hint of excitement. The bitter tinge of