Page 42 of Stolen Temptation (Irish Kings #3)
I don’t know what he means until he cages his body around my torso and lifts me right off the ground.
My legs fly around his waist, and his satisfied noise tells me that’s exactly what he wanted me to do.
Slinging my arms around Rory’s neck, I kiss him harder.
I kiss him like this is the last intimate moment we’ll ever have together, because it will be. And the reality of that hurts more than I can comprehend.
All I know is that our desperation is real as our tongues collide. Our chests press together tightly enough to crack a rib. After untold minutes of Rory’s savage, untamed kisses, I’m lightheaded with desire.
I gasp as Rory licks his way down my throat and back up again.
“Kiara.” He trails kisses along the curve of my jaw. “I want you to do everything you’ve ever dreamed of doing, and go every place you want to go. But before that…” He draws back so I can see the sincerity simmering in his tormented eyes. “I need to make love to you.”
My heart leaps up at his use of the “l” word, even in the wrong context.
“We didn’t finish before.” He lays his forehead to mine again. “And that’s going to haunt me for the rest of my life…unless you let me bury myself in you right now.” His hands smooth up my back. “That’s all I want to do.”
My heart belongs to him and no one else. I’ve wanted to be his ever since he first mentioned it. How can I deny him now?
Emotion floods my brain, washing away any rational thoughts that might’ve been there. Instead, I melt against him, nodding a little, and then a lot.
“Please,” I half moan against his mouth. “Make love to me.”
In this instant, I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anything. As a masterful Rory carefully lowers us down to the floor, ignoring the nearby loveseat and cradling me like I’m the most precious treasure he’s ever beheld, I believe he wants me just as much.
Rory’s fiery kisses, in between peeling his clothes and mine off our bodies?
The way he holds me against him, kissing down my chest, and then folds my legs over his shoulders?
The way he eats me, savoring the taste of my body like I’m some rare, delectable, gourmet dish…
It’s so overwhelming, I can barely make a sound.
Nothing compares to this. To the way I feel…loved.
I wish I could spend a lifetime exploring this feeling with him.
But I’ll have to accept this one stolen moment.
Pleasure dominates my body, even as bitter tears slip from the corners of my eyes. Why did it have to be this way? Why couldn’t we have met under normal circumstances? Why can’t we be two regular people?
Why can’t we be together when we care about each other this much?
Rory worships my clit with his mouth until I’m lightheaded and dizzy from the pressure building in my core. I’m already close, and he hasn’t even put his cock inside me yet. He lifts his face from my sopping pussy and guides the crown of his cock through my entrance in one fluid motion.
And it’s so different from the last time that I can’t stop the sound that leaves my mouth. He leans over me, dropping more kisses on my forehead.
“ Rory .” I bury my head into the curve of his neck as he takes his first stroke.
He shudders against me before emitting a completely furious groan. “ Don’t say my name like that.”
He pinches my nipples, sending hip-twitching amounts of pleasure racing under my skin.
“How do you expect me to make it the rest of my life without ever hearing that again?” he growls at me, thrusting harder without losing even the tiniest amount of fluidity as I whimper against his shoulder.
“Ah!” I let my head fall back against the floor and find Rory’s waiting eyes above mine.
Between the concentrated, unflinching intensity of his gaze and the depth of his cock as he plunges into me, deep dive after deep dive, I already know I’m a goner…
I’m at the end of my rope.
I think I might love him.
My hips buck as my inner walls flutter around him.
He holds me tight as pleasure erupts in a series of forceful contractions, pausing all my thoughts while I ride out the waves.
Even once my orgasm subsides, my body quakes with aftershocks before I fall still, panting like I just ran a marathon.
Heart pounding, I try to regulate my breathing.
Rory’s still watching me like I’m a snow globe he just shook up. “I knew it.”
“What?” My voice is breathless and raw.
“That you’d be beautiful…coming like that.”
My cheeks burn. What am I supposed to say to that?
His gaze becomes more molten. “You’re mine tonight, beautiful. Never forget that.”
And then he hooks his hands underneath my knees and pins them up above my waist. Just that one adjustment makes each of his strokes so much deeper.
He buries himself to the hilt and then makes love to me. Forceful, tender, a million things at once. All the while, his steady gaze pours into mine, potent as a shot of whiskey.
“I’m going to miss you, you know,” he murmurs in the dark, slapping his waist against mine and driving me crazy. “I don’t want to forget a single thing.”
I reach for him with both hands and pull his face down.
Hot, sloppy kisses mute the steady stream of moans slipping from my mouth.
I bite at his lip. “I’m going to miss you too.”
“Really?” A hint of surprise mixes into the lust and longing in Rory’s solemn eyes, his thrusting slowing down to a long, fluid pound instead of rapid-fire.
I nod vehemently. “Really.”
Something comes over him, and his voice drops out, his words replaced by an animalistic growl. He falls against me, releasing my knees after he starts to twitch, thrusting twice more.
Rory grouses in a language I don’t recognize. Is that Gaelic?
Whatever it is…it’s hot enough to tempt a nun into lifting her skirt.
Then, I start to feel it. His seed spilling inside me.
There’s something indescribably satisfying about it… Wow.
Panting, we cling to each other in the dark, knowing these are the last intimate moments we’ll ever spend together.
But the afterglow doesn’t last.
The unmistakable sound of the shop’s front door opening cuts into the night. Rory and I trade panicked glances before scrambling into our clothes as fast as we can.
Heart throbbing in my ears, I yank my shirt back on and wrench my jeans up and over my waist. Rory does the same, but the clink of his belt slapping against a nearby bookshelf causes us both to flinch and freeze.
A horrifyingly familiar voice tsks . “I always knew you were a whore like your mother.”
Appearing from the opposite end of our bookshelf row, a man claps his hands.
I’d know him anywhere.
Leonardo De Luca. The villain in my every nightmare.