Page 52 of Twister's Salvation

“Bye, Britta,” I drawled.“And I am never telling you anything ever again!”

“Sure, sure,” she laughed.“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The bell jingled, and then it was just me again.

For about three seconds.

Boots sounded against the hardwood floor behind me.

My pulse jumped.

“I didn’t even hear the door open,” I said without turning around.

“I ducked in when Britta walked out,” Twister rumbled behind me.

I turned, and my breath caught.Jesus.

Black jeans, cut thrown on over a white tee that was already clinging to his chest like a second skin.His hair was a little damp, shower-fresh, but his eyes?Wild.Hungry.

He didn’t say anything else.Just walked toward me.

I dropped the rag on the counter and met him halfway.

He stopped a foot away.

I stepped into him.

“You came,” I whispered.

“Told you I would,” he said, low and rough.

My hand slid up his chest.“I kept the bar warm for you.”

He growled, just once, then grabbed my waist and hoisted me onto the bar top.

Twister’s grip on my waist was solid, commanding, but there was a reverence to the way he lifted me, like I wasn’t just some girl he was screwing around with.

Like I was something more.

I landed on the bar top with a soft gasp, and my knees spread to frame him instinctively.My hands clutched at the collar of his cut and yanked him toward me.

“I missed you today,” I whispered.

He didn’t answer with words.

He crashed his mouth to mine, all heat and hunger.His tongue swept into my mouth like he owned it, and he had the right to explore every inch.I arched into him, and my thighs squeezed around his hips.I needed more.

His hands slid up my sides as he dragged the shirt up over my head and tossed it aside.His lips followed the line of my jaw, down the column of my throat, and his hot breath skimmed my skin.I trembled as he found the soft spot beneath my ear and bit, just enough to make me whimper.

“You taste like heaven,” he growled, his voice thick with lust.“And I want all of it.”

My fingers fumbled with the hem of his shirt, desperate to feel him skin to skin.He helped me and pulled it over his head in one fluid motion.His chest was broad and firm, inked and beautiful, and I couldn’t help but run my hands over every ridge of muscle.

“God, you’re unreal,” I whispered.

His mouth curved against mine.“I could say the same, doll.”

His hands were everywhere.Sliding down my back, gripping my thighs, squeezing my hips like he didn’t want to let go.I clutched him just as tightly, and my nails dug into his shoulders.