Series: The Rossi Crime Family Series by J.L. Beck
Total pages in book: 67
Estimated words: 63048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 63048 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 315(@200wpm)___ 252(@250wpm)___ 210(@300wpm)
As if Hero can read my mind, he shifts against the armrest to face me. “If I were to reach between your legs right now, would you be wet? I bet you would be.” A smug grin appears on his perfectly sculpted lips. There's a hunger in his eyes that excites me as his gaze roams up and down my body, surveying, watching.
“I can see your nipples through your shirt. They’re hard and begging to be sucked.”
I watch his hand twitch while talking about my nipples, knowing he wants to touch me. The large bulge forming under his sweatpants is a dead giveaway if I ever saw one. “I want you to touch me,” I admit, my voice seductive. Swallowing hard, I wait for him to move or say something, anything.
Instead, he stills for a moment.
I can see him contemplating what to do with me as my mind screams, please touch me.
Finally, he puts me out of my misery. He nods his head slightly, signaling for me to move over.
I crawl the short distance, settling into the spot beside him.
“I do have something to make up to you.”
His words make it hard to swallow, hard to breathe. When he lifts his hand to my breast and cups it through my shirt, I nearly come unglued.
Even the thin material seems to be way too much of a barrier between us as I consider ripping it off my body and tossing it over my shoulder. “What do you mean?” I don’t even know why I’m asking him. Who cares? He’s touching me, and that’s all that matters right now.
He rolls a nipple between his thumb and index finger, coaxing a moan from deep inside me. I find myself leaning into his touch, wanting him, needing him, more and more.
I lift my hand, trailing it across the leather before reaching his quickly stiffening member. Just as my fingers ghost over the cotton of his sweats, he snatches my hand up, his fingers interlocking with mine. “No. This is all about you, baby—all about you.” He sighs deeply, as if he's letting all his emotions out, exhaling the exhaustion, the pain, the anger. “Last night…I should have been more…” He pauses, shame filling his green eyes. “I don’t know how to explain it, but I should've treated you better. I should've given you more. You deserved better, that’s all.”
Watching him struggle to find the right words makes my heart beat up into my throat.
Happiness radiates deep inside me, pushing through the broken pieces. Knowing the Hero I fell in love with is still in there gives me hope. I nod, too overwhelmed with emotion to get a word out.
“Stand up,” he orders softly.
I eagerly comply. So eager, I make him chuckle with genuine laughter. With agile fingers, he dips into the waistband of my flannel pajamas and starts to pull them down.
His rough knuckles skim down my legs, leaving a burning trail of lava behind. So caught up in his touch and the fire building in my veins, I don’t even realize he’s pulling down my panties until the cool air hits my wet folds.
“Sit on my lap,” he whispers, leaving my clothes in a puddle by my feet.
I step out of them and climb onto his lap, straddling him so I can see his face. My knees rest against the cold leather and a shiver runs through me.
Hero reaches out, placing his hands on my knees. They remain there for a beat, then he starts moving them ever so slowly, dragging them up my thighs.
His thumbs glide along the inside of my thigh where the skin is so sensitive, it makes me giggle. Back and forth. Back and forth. Leaving one hand on my thigh, he moves the other closer and closer to my center.
My breath hitches as he finally reaches the destination. My body tightens. When the rough pad of his thumb touches my already swollen clit, I almost come.
He adds just a little pressure, and my hips start moving on their own. Grinding into him, wanting, needing more. “I need you,” I confess, looking into his eyes, hoping to see the same want. I need him to know how much truth is in my words and I’m scared to death to admit how much I need him.
“I know.” His voice is low and raw. He moves his hand, keeping his thumb on my clit while probing my entrance with the tip of his middle finger. “Are you sore?” he whispers, his breath fanning against my lips, beckoning me forward.
I think about it for a moment, testing his finger as it slides into me. Rocking my hips forward into his hand a little more, I feel little sparks of pain, but the need for him is too overwhelming, the pleasure he can give me outweighs any pain.