Page 73 of The Ecstasy of Sin

“I am,” he agrees without hesitation.

At least he’s self-aware. “What exactly is supposed to happen now?”

He shifts, reaching over to the nightstand to check his phone. I catch the time over his shoulder; it’s past noon. I’ve been asleep all morning.

“I’ll make you something to eat,” he says casually, “then we’ll take my dog for a walk before we head to Ryker’s club for tonight’s fight.” He sets the phone down, then turns back toward me.

He leans over me, his warm lips brushing against my forehead.

He smells so damn good, it’s not exactly helping me think clearly. That body of his—carved and inked like a monument to sex and war—feels weaponized against me.

I press my hand to his chest, trying to put some distance between us. “Can you put a shirt on? All your big muscles are very distracting.”

His chuckle is low and dark, a sound that rolls through me like a caress. He kisses the corner of my mouth. “I don’t think I will.”

I try my hardest to focus on what he said about tonight, while his warrior-honed body hovers above me like the world’s greatest distraction.

“You said you have a dog? And… wait, what about a fight?”

That damn smirk curves his mouth, cocky and dangerous, then his lips find the pulse in my throat. He licks are the fluttering pulse, a small sound of amusement vibrating against my neck as my blood starts pumping harder.

“Mhm,” he hums, pressing another kiss to my throat before his hand grips my jaw and pulls my mouth to his. “I’m on the roster for a fight tonight.”

He’s fighting? Like a boxing match, or something?

His lips descend on mine, his kiss so deep and consuming that the thought dissolves before I can voice it.

He presses down into me, one of his hands sliding down and then up, slipping underneath my shirt and cupping my breast. He rolls my nipple between his fingers, slow and precise, until it stiffens into a hypersensitive peak.

I moan airily, and he captures the sound with his mouth, taking the opportunity to sweep his tongue inside of me and kiss me like he’s worshipping me.

I’m lost to it; the heat, the pressure, and the hot pulse between my thighs as his mouth devours mine. His fingers tease me into desperation, amplifying my arousal to dangerous heights.

When his touch turns rough, I let out a helpless whimper, my hand reaching down to grab at his wrist, trying to take the edge off the intensity focused on my nipple.

His free hand gathers both of my wrists and pins them over my head, locking them in place while his other hand roams down my body.

“Dominic,” I whisper, his name caught in a moan as his hands slip between my thighs.

“Yes, baby?” he murmurs against my mouth, just before his fingers slide between the lips of my pussy and find me absolutely drenched for him.

My whole body ignites. I can feel the flush creeping up my neck, spreading across my chest in a heat that threatens to consume me.

“So fucking wet for me.” His voice is low and guttural, vibrating against my skin. “Your body already knows who it belongs to.”

When our eyes meet, I watch his pupils blow wide, swallowed by that violent, reverent lust.

My answer is another breathless moan as his fingers dip inside of me, gathering all of that silky wetness and dragging it up to swirl slow, deliberate circles around my clit.

He touches me like nothing else exists but me. Like he’s memorizing me. Testing what makes me whimper, and what makes me gasp.

He’s so fucking beautiful, I can barely handle it. I can’t believe a man built like a god, with a mouth made for sin, sees anything in me worth keeping.

His teeth find my bottom lip, and the sharp bite draws a gasp out of me. “Keep looking at me like that, and I’m going to fuck you before I feed you.”

“I’ve seen your cock,” I point out breathlessly, “and I regret to inform you that there is no way it’ll fit inside of me.” I’m half-teasing, half-serious.

He releases my wrists, that hand dropping to his belt. “Is that so?”