Page 9 of Need (Men of Inked Sinners #3)

Once enough of the water is removed, I make quick work of the filter, cleaning it off completely. Lulu is competent enough to do this herself, and I’d bet my truck she’s done it herself before. She had the meal perfectly timed to the number of minutes it would take me to complete this.

“All done,” I tell her as I twist the filter back in.

“Wow. You’re fast. Must’ve been an easy fix, huh?”

I laugh softly, knowing her game as I slide the rack back into place and close the door. “Yeah. Easy.”

“You want chips with your sandwich? I have salt and vinegar or sour cream.”

“A girl after my own heart.”

“You want both?”

“Vinegar,” I tell her as she stands in front of two unopened bags on the countertop.

“Good choice,” she says as she grabs the blue bag and heads toward the table, while I push myself upward, ignoring the cracking noise coming from my knees. “Let me wash up.”

“I left a towel for you by the sink.”

Of course she did. The woman thinks of everything. “Did you design everything yourself?” I ask as I pump the soap dispenser twice, instantly hit by the scent of vanilla.

“Yeah. My mom helped a bit, but she’s more about light colors and florals.”

“Complete opposites.”

Lulu laughs as she assembles the sandwiches. “She can appreciate my vision, even if it isn’t her own. ”

“That’s sweet.” I haven’t met a person in her family who isn’t nice, just like she is. They are so very unlike my people, and it isn’t lost on me how my family is probably more abnormal than hers is.

“My mom is the best.”

“The tile is something.” I stare at the matte black tiles all perfectly arranged on the wall behind the sink and underneath the cabinets. Each one is unique and handmade and had to cost a damn near fortune for a kitchen this size.

“My cousin Tate and I made each one at a local ceramic place that our friend owns. It took us months to make them all.”

“Damn,” I whisper, completely impressed. By the looks of her, I’d have assumed she’d bought them at a fancy tile store. Never in a million years did I think she made each one of them by hand.

“Come. Sit,” she says, holding two plates with some of the largest Italian beef sandwiches I’ve ever seen. “They’re not as good when they’re cold.”

“I’d eat that any way you’d give it to me.”

She sucks in a breath, staring at me like she is about to pounce, which is odd. I was talking about the sandwich, but the look in her eyes makes me think she was hoping I was talking about something else. “I’m sure you would.”

As soon as she sets the plates down on the table, I grab her wrist, stopping her from sitting. She peers over her shoulder at me, our eyes locking. “Sweetheart, tell me something.”

“What?” she asks, and her voice is husky and rough.

“Did you really need me to fix your dishwasher, or did you call me over here for something else?”

She swallows hard as her eyes widen. “Like what?”

I caress the pulse point on her wrist with my thumb. “We never got to finish what we started at the garage.”

“I didn’t think you’d want…”

That’s all she needed to say. I know what she wants but can’t bring herself to ask for. She is probably worried I’ll reject her, which is bananas because the woman is mint and way too classy for a dipshit like me.

I yank her toward me, our bodies colliding. “You want me?” I stare down at her as her lips part, and her tongue pokes out like it’s beckoning me.

“Yes,” she breathes as her gaze drops to my lips. “But if you don’t want to, I?—”

“I’ve never wanted anything more,” I say before pressing my mouth to hers in a clash of lips and teeth, ravenous for her more than any sandwich.

She moans as I snake my hand around her back, my fingers finding her neck, wanting to control everything. Her moan grows louder as my hold tightens and my kiss deepens .

If my hand hadn’t been holding her, she would be on the floor because her body goes limp as she gives me her entire body weight.

“I want you so bad,” she murmurs against my lips.

That’s all any man needs to hear to lose absolute control. Fuck the Italian beef. I have something better than that in my mouth. I have an Italian princess, and if I am a lucky man, I’ll know how every inch of her body tastes after tonight.

I pull back, staring down at her eyes, which are now soft and hazy. “What do you want, Lulu?”

“Everything,” she whispers. “It’s been too long, and my body is dying for yours. I need you.”

My restraint slips, what little of it I had left anyway. I lift Lulu, placing her ass on the countertop without breaking our kiss.

My fingers move to the hem of her T-shirt before lifting it up, hating that the shirt isn’t button-down.

Our mouths only separate for the briefest of moments as I yank the T-shirt over her head, disposing of it somewhere nearby.

Her skin is hot underneath my palms, and I groan at the softness against my calluses.

I drag my hands to her breasts, feeling the coarseness of her lace bra and the weight of her in my palms. I’m in heaven.

And if this isn’t what the afterlife is like, I don’t want it.

I have a beautiful, half-naked woman in front of me who’s begging for me to touch her, take her, make her mine. Absolute paradise .

As she wraps her legs around my waist, I realize my mistake. There’s no way to get her pants off in this position. Way to go, Oli.

Without saying a word, I lift Lulu from the counter, setting her feet flat on the floor.

She doesn’t protest or ask any questions.

Her mouth’s too busy with mine to say anything.

My fingers work at the button and zipper of her jeans before I yank them down and reach for her underwear.

But to my shock, I find nothing but bare skin.

I can feel her smile against my lips as my movement halts for a split second when I realize there’s nothing between us now. She kicks her jeans to the side, standing in front of me in nothing more than her bra.

My hands move to her back, unclasping the little hooks that were created to torture men and make having sex more difficult than it needs to be. They are nothing more than a modern-day chastity belt for the top half.

I break the kiss, the hunger inside me so deep, I can’t hold back anymore. “Up you go,” I tell her as I push her upward back onto the countertop before falling to my knees. “I need to taste you.”

She spreads her legs wide without my having to tell her. She wants this as much as I do. I glance up, still in disbelief that this is my life. She looks down at me with a smirk, moving her left leg from side to side.

“I’m waiting,” she says in a sultry voice .

“Fuck,” I growl and loop my arms underneath her legs, spreading her wide.

She gasps, shocked by my speed, but that doesn’t stop me. I lean forward and dive into her pussy like I’m a starved man and she’s the meal.

There’s a loud thump from above, but I don’t stop to see what it is. I’m too busy tasting her sweetness and loving the way her fingers tangle in my hair. She gasps for air as I suck at her clit and kiss her everywhere, being messy because I want it all… I want her.

She tries to close her legs, but I hold them firm, not letting her get away from the orgasm I hope is building inside her.

“Fuck, I’m going to…”

“Come for me, baby,” I say against her skin before going in harder this time, driving her over the cliff.

“Oliver,” she moans before she screams out her pleasure, her fingers twisting my hair to the point of pain, but I don’t care. She could rip out every last strand as long as I can hear her moan my name like this again.

When her body finally goes limp and she’s gasping for air, I know I did what needed to be done. Lulu Gallo is mine.