Page 20 of The Game Changer (Knights of Passion #3)

She turned in his arms and raised her face. Before she could utter a word, his mouth was on hers, urgent and hot, tongue sweeping inside to claim her. He tasted like beer and heat and salt, and it wrecked her.

He fisted her hair, tilting her head to deepen the kiss, and she whimpered, clinging to his shirt. Her breasts pressed into his chest, nipples aching as the friction sent heat skittering down between her thighs.

His hand moved to her hip, sliding beneath her shirt to graze bare skin, his touch branding her.

Her whole body arched into him, craving more.

The muscles beneath his shirt rippled under her touch as she ran her palms down his back, then tugged the hem of his tee up, desperate to feel him skin to skin.

He broke the kiss, just long enough to yank off her shirt and toss it. Her bra followed a second later, leaving her bare and panting. His hands cupped her breasts reverently, thumbs stroking over her taut nipples until she cried out, pressing harder into his touch.

“Jesus, Savannah,” he murmured, before lowering his head to suck one peak into his mouth.

The wet heat of his tongue combined with the rasp of his stubble was sensory overload. She dug her fingers into his hair, holding him to her as his mouth worshipped her. Each lick, each pull of his lips sent sharp pleasure knifing through her, pooling between her legs.

He dropped to his knees, his hands working the button of her shorts, then sliding them and her panties down her thighs in one fluid motion. He hooked her leg over his shoulder and buried his face between her legs.

She gasped, grabbing the edge of the counter to stay upright as his tongue traced the slick folds of her sex. He licked, teased, and sucked her clit into his mouth until she shattered against his mouth, thighs shaking, vision going white at the edges.

Then he stopped.

He looked at her like she was the only woman on the planet.

“Stay with me tonight.” His voice was raw. Vulnerable.

She nodded. She couldn’t have spoken even if she wanted to.

When he stood, he lifted her in his arms like she weighed nothing and carried her to the bedroom. She clung to him, peppering kisses along his jaw and throat, tasting her own salt on his skin.

In the doorway to the bedroom, she laughed softly.

“What?” he asked, pausing.

“I was just picturing the dogs barging in on us.”

He grinned, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Worse than walking in on your parents.”

He set her down, then shut the door behind them with a firm snick of the door. “They can tear up the place for all I care,” he murmured, walking toward her. “Tonight, it’s just us.”

She backed up, teasing. “I think they’ll be fine. They’re pretty tired.”

“I hope you’re not,” he said, stalking her like prey.

Her breath caught.

He grabbed her before she could respond, pushing her back against the wall, body pressed fully against hers. His erection nudged her lower belly, unmistakable and firm. Her pulse skittered. His fingers traced her cheek, then feathered kisses along her jawline.

“You’re beautiful, Savannah,” he whispered.

“You’re just trying to get in my pants,” she whispered back, half-laughing, breathless.

“No, you’re sexy. Strong. So damn kind. And I swear to God, if I don’t have you right now, I’m going to explode.”

She reached between them and stroked him through his shorts.

“Then don’t wait.”

That was all it took.

He surged forward, kissing her deeply. His hands thumbed her nipples, tugging and teasing them until she whimpered.

When he lifted her, she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, her core already throbbing with need. The friction of his shorts against her center drove her wild. He carried her to the bed and laid her down gently, a reverence in his touch that made her heart clench.

“I need to taste you again. Once wasn’t enough,” he growled.

He kissed a trail down her body until he nestled between her thighs.

The first stroke of his tongue made her gasp and dig her heels into the bed. The second had her crying out, fingers fisting the sheets. He took his time, circling, teasing, dipping inside with his tongue and fingers until she shattered—once, twice, again—her moans growing hoarse.

When he finally climbed over her, grabbing a condom from the nightstand, she watched with dazed awe as he rolled it on.

“Your turn,” he said, eyes dark with need.

She barely had time to catch her breath before he slid inside her in one deep thrust.

She arched up, crying out, locking her legs around his waist.

He held perfectly still, forehead resting against hers. “You feel incredible.”

She dug her nails into his shoulders. “Then move.”

He did. Long, deep thrusts that built and built until she was gasping, writhing, begging. When she climaxed again, he gritted his teeth and slowed—but only for a second.

She pushed at his chest, flipped them over, and straddled him.

His hands gripped her hips. “Impatient, huh?”

“I have a lot of years to make up for.”

She rode him hard, fast, her breasts bouncing under his touch, her moans getting louder with every grind of her hips. He reached between them and stroked her where she was most sensitive, sending her over the edge again.

She was still shaking when he flipped her again, driving into her with a guttural growl. He buried himself in her, once, twice—then came with a shout, collapsing beside her.

He pulled her into his arms, pressing a kiss to her temple.

Savannah sighed against his chest.

Safe. Sated. And completely, blissfully his.

D ylan woke her three more times that night—each time with slow, lingering kisses, gentle caresses, and an intensity that left her breathless, her body trembling from the deep, possessive way he claimed her.

Each time had been different: one slow and reverent, another needy and fast, the third an unspoken promise whispered into the space between their bodies.

By the time the last waves of pleasure ebbed away, Savannah was limp, utterly wrung out and sated, stretched boneless across the tangle of sheets and his strong, sweat-dampened body.

She didn’t want to move. Didn’t want to let go.

Her body hummed with satisfaction, the heavy weight of exhaustion curling through her limbs in the most delicious way.

The golden light of morning spilled through the slats in the blinds, painting stripes across the rumpled bed.

Her eyes fluttered open, drawn not by the brightness but by the slow rise and fall of Dylan’s chest beneath her cheek.

She had curled against him at some point in the early morning hours, her arm draped over his torso, one leg thrown over his hip.

His heart thudded steadily beneath her ear, a soft, grounding rhythm that lulled her toward a contented haze of sleep—but there was no denying the way his thumb was idly stroking her nipple, the pad teasing the tight bud until she gasped softly and her core pulsed in awareness.

It took a heartbeat to realize where his hand was. Curved possessively over her breast, cupping it like it was his. A flush of heat rolled over her skin, spreading like melted honey through her limbs.

Her eyes flew open to find Dylan watching her, his mouth quirked into a satisfied grin, his stormy gaze hooded and amused.

“I was starting to wonder when you’d wake up,” he murmured, voice still rough from sleep.

The morning scruff along his jaw shadowed his chin, and his hair was a tousled mess from her fingers running through it for hours.

He looked so sinfully gorgeous that it almost hurt to look at him directly.

And his erection—hard and insistent—pressed against her thigh, the warmth of him branding her through the thin sheet tangled between them.

She groaned softly, cheeks heating. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Again? Three times wasn’t enough?”

His chuckle vibrated against her chest as he rolled her gently onto her back, the sheet slipping away. “Not even close,” he whispered, lowering his head to take her nipple into his mouth, sucking deep, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak.

Her back bowed, a moan slipping from her lips as the sharp pleasure arrowed straight between her thighs.

Her legs shifted restlessly, desire sparking to life in a blaze she hadn’t expected to feel again so soon.

His hands roamed her body with infuriating slowness, like he had all the time in the world to learn every dip and hollow, every tremble and sigh.

“Dylan,” she gasped, her fingers fisting in his hair as he lavished attention on her breasts.

He lifted his head, eyes dark and heated, pupils blown wide with arousal. “I want to feel you again,” he rasped. “All of you.”

Savannah wrapped her arms around his shoulders and tugged him down for a kiss.

Their mouths met in a clash of tongues and teeth, a hungry, desperate thing that spiraled quickly out of control.

She tasted him—coffee, salt, a little sleep, and the lingering memory of the night before.

Their kisses deepened, became wetter, sloppier, more frantic.

And then she pushed him onto his back, straddling his hips, feeling the hard length of him nestled perfectly against the slick heat between her thighs. She rolled her hips slowly, grinding against him, finding the sweet friction she craved. His hands tightened on her waist, groaning.

“Not yet,” she whispered, leaning down to brush her lips across his chest. “My turn to play a little.”

She flicked her tongue over his nipple, smiling when his breath caught.

The way his body responded to her touch made her feel powerful, wild.

She trailed kisses down his torso, dipping her tongue into his navel, nipping gently at the hard ridges of his abs.

His muscles flexed under her mouth as she shifted lower, settling between his thighs.

She took him in her hand, watching his face as she stroked him, her touch light and teasing. He groaned, deep and guttural, and threw an arm over his eyes.