Chapter Nineteen #2
I’d once rolled my eyes at these two girls at a bar who commented when they’d seen Raff that he “walks like it’s heavy.”
But, well, clearly they knew what they were talking about.
Because what Raff was working with was impressive even when it wasn’t hard.
The jolt of desire was strong enough for me to need to press my thighs together.
Every nerve ending seemed to be sparking off at once.
I was jittery with it. My blood felt like it was rushing through my veins.
My heart was trying to break out of my ribcage.
And drawing in a breath felt impossible with how heavy my chest was.
If he hadn’t moved, I might have ogled him forever. But he turned toward me. Then he took a few measured steps closer. It was impossible for me not to notice how my watching him was affecting him. There was another almost painful throb of desire at seeing him harden as he got closer.
“Did you want to talk to me about something?” he asked, his voice deceptively even as he moved to stand in front of me.
That damn coconut-lime-rum scent of him seemed to swirl around me, begging me to move closer, to bury my face in his neck and breathe it in.
“Or are you just here to take in the view?” he asked, reaching up to tuck some of my hair behind my ear.
A shiver moved through me, making his lips twitch.
“Or the third option.”
I had to wet my lips before I could respond. “Third option?”
He took one step closer, his body a whisper from mine. His hard length pressed into my belly, making my breath rush out of me even as he leaned in toward my ear.
“You could do more than look.”
He reached out, sliding his hand down my arm until it closed around my wrist, lifting my hand and placing it on his chest.
As calm as he was on the outside, with my hand over his heart, I could feel it racing in time with my own. There was something oddly comforting about that.
My gaze flicked up to his, not sure what I was looking for—since I already had permission. But there was something soft in his eyes as he watched me, something that had my chest get that weird, warm sensation again.
Emboldened by that, I let my hand drift across his chest, tracing over his pecs, then moving to the center and slowly sliding down.
Under my touch, his muscles tightened even as his eyes went heavy-lidded and his breath went quick and shallow.
His other hand raised, going to the wall at my side, caging me in. As if any part of me wanted to leave.
My fingers slid over his ribs, the barest curve of his hip, down his thigh.
My finger went to the raised, smooth skin of his scar, sliding gently over it.
When I’d heard that he’d been stabbed a while back, I couldn’t seem to talk myself out of going to check on him at the clubhouse.
I’d tried not to let myself wonder why at the time.
And certainly didn’t allow myself to analyze why I’d been so hurt and jealous when I realized he was being taken care of by club girls who dressed as slutty nurses.
“You came to see me,” he murmured, clearly lost in the memory as well.
“Yeah.”
“Not because Cillian told you to, like you said.”
“No.”
“You were worried about me.”
I nodded at that.
“You were quick to leave.”
My gaze shifted up to his. “You already had women looking after you.”
He nodded at that. And I appreciated that he never lied to me about his man-whoring ways.
“But not the one I wanted.” His hand moved up, his finger tracing down my jaw. “You were jealous.”
To that, my lips curved slightly. “I wouldn’t let myself think that. But yes.”
“You never had anything to be jealous about,” he said, fingers gliding back up my jaw, over my ear, down my neck. “I would have chosen you. Every single time. A million times over. If you were an option.”
My belly swooped at that. And the intensity in his eyes that backed up the words.
His forehead pressed to mine.
“No one else could ever compare.”
The swelling sensation in my chest grew too tight, too painful, too close to something I wouldn’t be able to ignore if I let it continue.
So instead, my hand moved up from his thigh and closed around his hard length.
Raff’s breath hissed out of him as his hips involuntarily rocked into my fist, and a deep, rumbling sound moved through his chest.
My bones melted.
Heat licked at every inch of me as I stroked him down, then back up. Once, twice, three times.
That seemed to be Raff’s breaking point.
His hand grabbed my chin. Then his lips were on me. Hard. Rough. Demanding.
A low moan escaped me as my other hand went around him, holding on as his lips slanted over mine again and again.
At the sound, his arm went around my hips. The other slid to the back of my neck, keeping contact as the kiss deepened, and he turned us and started to walk me backward.
I lost his arm as he reached behind me, swiping his duffle onto the ground as he pressed me down, then came with me, forcing me to slide up the bed.
Only when I was against the pillows did he break the kiss and lift up to sit back on his heels.
I was still taking in the view when his hands moved out, grabbing the hem of my pants and starting to pull them down.
My breath caught at the heat in his eyes as he pressed my knees in toward my chest so he could free the clinging material from my ankles.
He tossed the pants toward the floor, then slid his hands up my ankles, calves, knees, then sides of my thighs.
I sucked in my breath as his fingers teased the line of my panties over my hips, toying with the material for a moment before pulling them down.
I expected him to spread me, to slide between. I didn’t expect him to reach down for me, pulling me up onto my knees with him.
His hands moved up over my hips, grabbing the hem of my shirt and pulling upward.
His voice was a low rumble that shivered through me when he murmured, “Can you put your arms up for me, baby?”
A shiver moved down my spine as I lifted my arms in the air. The shirt slid over my head and his chest brushed my bare breasts in the process, making both of us stiffen.
He tossed the shirt and his hands slid up from my hips, teasing the sides of my breasts, moving over my shoulders, then—finally—slipping downward, closing over my breasts.
His groan drowned out my moan as I arched back, pressing my chest more firmly into his hands. His palms shifted, letting his thumbs work soft circles around my nipples until they twisted into tight points.
Goosebumps rose in a rush and my thighs clenched as the ache grew between them.
I expected more touch.
But Raff shifted suddenly down, lowering onto his back as he grabbed me behind the knees and dragged me forward.
“Get down here,” he demanded, pulling me down when I hovered, feeling awkward.
All insecurity flew out of my mind, though, when I felt his tongue trace up the center of me, then start to circle my clit until my thighs were shaking, my breath was hitching, and the pressure pushed hard on my lower stomach.
I didn’t know if I was sinking or soaring, but either way, I never wanted to land as he continued to circle my clit, driving me up slowly, but relentlessly.