Page 24 of Detective for the Debutante (SAFE Haven Security #3)
MURPHY
I ’m done fighting this crazy attraction to the woman in front of me. But I still savor the electric explosion arcing between us in the instant before my mouth claims hers.
Holy fuck.
Every other thought leaves my brain at the taste of her again. She has the ability to obliterate every other piece of the world except her. With every brush of her lips against mine, it’s cementing the decision I made.
I want her.
She wants me.
And I’m fucking exhausted from trying to fight it.
Lifting my hands to bracket her hips, I squeeze and knead the denim against the warmth of her skin, and she mewls before tangling her tongue with mine, pressing closer.
The weight of her breasts presses against my chest, and I fight the urge to lift her in my arms and feel the warmth of her legs around my waist.
Her fingers scrape through my hair, her moan captured between us, and my hands drop to her ass, aligning our lower bodies. Another thread on my control severs, and it takes everything I have to keep her feet on the ground.
Fuck. Had I known it would be like this when I finally gave in, I would have given in to temptation a whole lot earlier than last night.
I crowd her against the wall, ripping my mouth from hers to brand a trail of open-mouthed kisses down her neck, reveling in whatever perfume teases my nostrils with the scents of vanilla and sandalwood.
Her leg lifts to curve around my hip and I reach down to boost her higher, groaning as the heat of her pussy teases me through the denim seam of her shorts.
My fingers tease beneath the hem, desperate to find her beneath the fabric.
She cries out and I stop, lifting my head.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she murmurs. “Don’t stop.”
“You beg so sweetly,” I tell her, teasing her swollen lips with a chaste kiss. “What about dinner?”
“Later,” she murmurs, scratching her nails along my nape, and my hand tightens on her thigh.
“Not hungry?” I drop my lips back to the spot where her neck and shoulder connect, nipping at the tendon there.
“Not for food.”
My dick kicks against my zipper and my fingers stretch, trying to find the edge of her panties beneath the denim of her shorts.
“I don’t intend to stop, sweetheart. Not unless you tell me to.”
“Don’t plan on that happening,” she says.
A smile curves my lips. Fuck, her sass is just as intoxicating as her body.
“Kiss me,” she demands, confidence ringing through her voice.
I slam my lips back to hers, devouring the demand while her fingers wrap into my shirt.
She tugs at the cotton, yanking at it as she tries to pull it off.
I oblige, breaking the kiss long enough to reach behind me and grab the neck.
Pulling it over my head, I let it fall to the kitchen floor at our feet.
She lifts her hands and my whole body stills, despite my heart thrumming a staccato beat in my chest where her hand presses, drawing up and down, her fingers tracing the ink on my chest.
“What does it mean?” she whispers and drags her fingers over the tattoo covering my right pec, brushing my nipple.
I groan, wanting her to repeat the caress, which she does.
This woman is fucking perfect for me.
I reach out, my fingers playing with the hem of her tank while I let her explore her fill. Her eyes lock with mine and she nods, granting me permission to my unspoken question.
“Someday I’ll explain every one to you, Stóirín.
But right now, I’m a little preoccupied,” I murmur, using my hands to push the tank up and over her breasts.
I skim my fingers over the silky fabric of the pale blue bra as I continue to push her top up.
She grips the fabric, tugging it the rest of the way off, and stands before me in her bra and shorts.
Her breasts swell above the shimmery fabric and I drop my head, tasting the sweet skin of one swell while her nipples pebble, pulling my attention to them.
Soon.
But first I’m determined to commit every piece of her to memory. The swell of her breasts as I trace them one direction to the other. I flatten my tongue, licking along the cleavage, smiling at the way she pushes against me, mewling. Ready for more.
I tunnel my fingers between her back and the wall, finding the clasp to flick the bra open, and the blue fabric loosens. I slide my hands to her shoulders, intent on divesting her of the straps, when she shrugs the garment free and it flutters to the floor next to my shirt and hers.
Her nipples tighten even more in the rush of cool air, and I slide my tongue along my lips, dying for a taste.
But I hold on to the frayed tether of my control while tracing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone while my hands settle at her hips, gripping them with a desperation while itching to trace the tight peaks of each breast.
“You taste like heaven,” I murmur against her skin.
It’s a mix of my favorite dessert—strawberry shortcake—and something more. Something sweeter. Hotter. Something uniquely Leigh.
She squirms against the wall as I stretch my fingers up, running along the hem of her shorts and hooking my pinkies in the waistband.
“More,” she tells me, bumping her pelvis against mine.
I see fucking stars and my control snarls for release. Clenching my jaw, I fight for control, wresting it back.
“Slowly.” I sink my teeth into the tendon between her neck and shoulder before laving the bite with my tongue. “I intend to savor you like the delicacy you are. And that takes time I’m not willing to give up.”
I tease a kiss against her pouty lips, and she tries to hold me in place.
“I’m dying here,” she whines.
My eyes find hers and one side of my mouth curves into a smile.
“No, sweetheart. But you’ll absolutely see heaven before I’m through,” I promise before allowing my lips to claim hers again.
This kiss is more forceful than before, my own control unraveling more by the minute. Her breasts crush against my chest and she moans into the kiss, her fingernails pricking into the skin of my shoulders.
My fingers find the snap of her shorts, and I drop them to her feet and open my eyes.
The thin, lacy panties are delicate, highlighting the curve of her hip as her arousal teases my nostrils. My hands shake faintly as I reach out, hooking them into the waist and dragging my index finger along the smooth skin of her abdomen.
“More,” she tells me.
I toy with the waistband, tracing it all the way back and around to where I started, lifting my other hand so both hands now bracket her hips.
My libido may be raging at me to rip her shorts off, but I take my time, unwrapping her like a long-awaited present, holding the moment between us as I slide them down her legs until she shimmies them off the rest of the way.
“You’re fucking gorgeous,” I tell her, my hands finding her ass to yank her lower body back against mine.
I swallow her gasp, tangling my tongue with hers while my hands cup and knead the tender flesh, boosting her until she can wrap her legs around me. The heat of her pussy connects with my stomach and I’m fucking done for.
Ripping my mouth away from hers, I wait until her blue eyes open, dazed, lust filled. Light slants into the kitchen, highlighting her swollen lips, and it takes everything I have not to dive in for another taste. But not yet.
“I’ve dreamed of you, Stóirín. What you tasted like, what your skin would feel like beneath my fingers, of the sounds you would make if I did this.” I brush my fingertips through her folds, and my name is a moan on her lips.
“Fuck. Again.”
I repeat the caress, finding her clit and circling the hard bundle of nerves. My dick is an iron rod in my shorts, my body screaming at me to take things further.
“But my dreams pale in comparison to reality. There are not enough words to describe how exquisite you taste. How soft your skin is beneath my fingertips. No words can describe the sounds you make when I bring you pleasure.”
Dropping my mouth to hers again, I swirl my finger around her clit. Her legs shake, and she nearly comes undone as I press her back against the wall, letting it hold more of her weight as I alternate pressure with every swipe of my finger against the hard bundle.
Her head falls back against the wall and my lips find her jaw, licking the salty sheen of sweat from her skin as she mewls.
“I-I-I’m going to come,” she pants, her breathing ragged.
But I don’t stop, doubling down on my efforts as my lips find her ear.
“Come for me, Leigh,” I growl and tap her clit once, twice, until her entire body locks around me, her orgasm leaving only my name on her lips. A prayer. An incantation. A spell that pulls us both under.