I devour her, holding her stunning face in my hands as I worship her lips like I’ve been longing to for the past two weeks. Sloane kisses me back with the same passion, readily parting her lips and letting my tongue slip inside. One hand leaves her face as I band my arm around her back and pull her flush against my body. Tilting her head back a little, I sweep my tongue around her mouth as my lips take and take and take. My blood heats, and my cock jerks against my zipper as I gyrate my hips and grind against her.
I want to strip every item of clothing from her gorgeous body, lie her down on the rug in front of the fire, part her tempting thighs, and slide home. Precum leaks from the tip of my dick as I make love to her mouth, needing more, more, more. My hand creeps under the back of her pajama top, and sparks fly across my skin the instant my fingers meet her satiny-smooth flesh.
My need for her is at an all-time high, and I couldn’t stop this if I tried. Pushing her back until her ass hits the side of the couch, I continue perusing her warm skin, circling around to her stomach and moving higher. Our tongues tangle as our kissing grows frantic, and she’s meeting me every step of the way, her fingers digging into my ass through my dress pants.
When I brush the underside of her tits, she moans into my mouth, arches her back, and thrusts her breasts forward. The hard peaks of her nipples crush against my chest as she squeezes my ass and whimpers. “Cristian.”
Palming one tit, I roll my thumb around her stiff nipple and grip her waist on the other side, freezing instantly when she winces. I rip my swollen lips from hers and remove my hands from her body, struggling to get my breathing under control. “You’re hurt,” I pant.
“It’s only a little bruising,” she says in a breathless tone.
What the fuck was I thinking throwing myself at her like this after everything that’s happened tonight? I was pretty rough when I threw her to the ground as gunshots rang out, and it’s obvious she’s injured but downplaying it.
Pulling her over to the desk, I angle the desktop lamp so we’re bathed in light.
Sloane gasps, and her eyes widen in alarm. “You’re bleeding!” Panic is etched upon her face as she tentatively raises a hand to my left arm.
“It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”
“It is not nothing,” she protests, straightening up. Stretching my arm out, she frowns at the large pool of blood staining my white dress shirt. “Hold still,” she demands, removing my cuff link, unbuttoning the cuff, and carefully rolling the sleeve up. I close my eyes as my skin tingles from her touch. My cock is digging into my zipper painfully, silently screaming in need.
So much for staying away from the nanny.
I barely lasted two weeks.
She sucks in another gasp when she reaches the wound. “Oh my god. You were shot.” Horror splays across her face as she examines the bloody gash on my upper arm.
“It only grazed me. It looks worse than it is.”
“I need to clean it and put some antiseptic on.”
“It’s fine, Sloane. I can handle it.”
“Shut up, Cristian.” She glares at me, and it only turns me on more. “Where can I find a first aid kit?”
I peer into her determined eyes before my gaze drops to her mouth. Her lips are all red and swollen from my kisses, and I like it a lot more than I should. “Fuck.” I drag a hand through my hair. “I shouldn’t have pounced on you like that.”
“Don’t.” She moves a step closer, and fire blazes in her eyes. “Do not say you regret it. I’ll give you a matching wound in your other arm if you do.”
A chuckle rumbles from my throat. “I wasn’t going to say that,” I truthfully admit. “But I didn’t give you a choice, I just—”
“Shut. Up. Cristian.” That seems to be her new mantra. She prods one finger into my chest. “I wanted it. You know I did. Now stop trying to change the subject and tell me where the first aid kit is.”
“You should find one in the bottom drawer of Dad’s desk,” I say, glancing over my shoulder.
“That’s a strange place to keep it.” She rounds the desk and bends down.
“Not really.” I have a lot to tell her. There’s no keeping who we are—who I am—a secret any longer, but it’s not a conversation I want to have at three a.m. when we’re both sore and tired. “I’ll explain everything tomorrow.”
Hugging the box to her chest, she nods before walking back around to me. She sets the kit down on the desk and takes my hand, pressing the cuff link into my palm. “I’ll get some water and a cloth.” She takes a couple of steps back, and her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. “You, ah, should remove your shirt,” she blurts before spinning around and racing out of the room.
I chuckle to myself as I remove my shirt, tucking my cuff links into my pocket so I don’t lose them. While I wait for her to come back, I stare into the dying embers of the fire and wonder what the hell I’m going to do now. I shouldn’t have touched her. Now I’ve had a taste, I can’t tame my inner beast or continue denying what’s been blatantly obvious from the moment I set eyes on Sloane.
I want her. Under me. Over me. On all fours. In every way imaginable.
And it’s problematic on many levels, but especially because she might not want me when she realizes exactly who she’s been kissing.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips, and my bones feel weary. Thoughts of earlier return, and I scrub my hands down my face, ignoring the pinch in my arm with the motion. The discovery is not a welcome development, and it doesn’t bode well.
Sloane returns, interrupting my thoughts. Her footsteps falter as she comes closer. Her eyes are like heat-seeking missiles where they roam every inch of my bare chest. Shivers dust over my flesh in every place her gaze lingers, and my dick is about ready to bust from my pants.
Tension bleeds into the air when she stops directly in front of me. Her hands shake as she places a bowl of water down on the desk alongside the medical kit. Sparks crackle in the air, and it’s taking every molecule of self-control not to strip her bare and impale her on my aching cock. I long to bury myself deep inside her and stay there for the rest of the night.
Gripping the edge of the desk, I remind myself she’s vulnerable as the tension twists and tightens, ready to snap at any second. Sloane dips the cloth in the water and wrings it out. Her head lifts, and her gaze ensnares mine. “You’re beautiful, Cristian,” she whispers, dragging her eyes over my broad shoulders and down over the ink on my chest and along one side of my body.
“I can say the exact same. I don’t think you realize how completely stunning you are.”
Heat crawls up her neck and onto her face, and she can’t contain her shy smile. I don’t move a muscle as she lifts her arm, moving it tentatively toward me. Reassuring her with my eyes, I hold myself perfectly still as the tips of her fingers trace over the ink on my arms and my chest. I bite on the inside of my cheek, trapping a groan, when her fingers explore the dips and grooves of my abs, and I’m clinging to my sanity by a thread. Sloane doesn’t explore any lower, but she must see the bulge straining my pants and know it’s all for her.
“Like I said—beautiful,” she whispers as her cheeks turn a deeper shade of red. She kisses me softly on the lips before switching her attention to my wounded arm. “This might sting.” Sloane presses the damp cloth to my skin, and my heart thumps steadily as I watch her carefully clean and dry my wound. I’m completely mesmerized by her. She has bewitched me, and I like being under her spell. The bullet only grazed my arm, so it’s not serious, but it still stings like a bitch when she dabs it with an iodine-based antiseptic. Then she applies an aloe vera salve before bandaging it. “You should get a doctor to look at it. You might need some butterfly bandages.”
“I’m sure it’s fine.” It’s not like it’s the first scar to adorn my body. I have plenty of war wounds, but most are covered by ink and not visible unless closely examined.
“Your turn.” Picking up the tub, I stab her with a purposeful look. I haven’t forgotten she’s hurt too. “I see my mother is trying to convert you to the wonders of aloe vera.” I can tell it’s from Mom’s stash because she’s been buying her products from the same local salon for years. Swearing by its healing properties, she has oodles of the stuff all over the place. I’m not surprised Mama was mothering Sloane in my absence. Nurturing is second nature to her, and I can tell she’s already very taken with Elio’s nanny.
I inwardly groan at the thought. I was supposed to keep things professional, and I’ve really fucked it up now.
“She doesn’t need to convert me. I’m already a fan.” Sloane snatches the tub out of my hand. “You don’t need to do that. I can do it myself.”
I put myself all up in her space. “Shut. Up. Sloane.” I smirk as I turn her words back around on her. “Lie down on your stomach on the couch and lift your top,” I instruct, plucking the tub from her slim fingers.
She nibbles on her lip, and my blood sizzles. “Sloane,” I growl, seconds from throwing all my self-made rules out the window, tossing her over this desk and having my wicked way with her. “Lie the fuck down.”
Her gaze dips to my mouth for a fleeting second before she pivots around and walks over to the couch. I discreetly adjust myself in my pants and caution myself to behave. Despite her bravado, Sloane has got to be freaked out over everything, and I won’t take advantage of her vulnerability. Not any more than I already have done, at least.
My mouth turns dry as she lies down and pulls her top up to her upper back. The sleep shorts she’s wearing barely cover her ass, and my fingers itch with a craving to fondle her shapely cheeks. My lips long to drop a line of kisses along her spine. Her tan skin is flawless and begging for my touch.
I’m going to hell, I think, as I drop to my knees at her side. Soft warmth from the dregs of the fire heats my back. Sloane’s trusting eyes meet mine as I move closer to examine her side. Discoloration is already showing from the top of her ribs down to her hip bone, and she’s going to be black and blue tomorrow. Remorse is instant. “I’m so sorry.” I unscrew the lid and plunge my fingers into the cold gel.
“Don’t be,” she quietly says. “You protected me, and I’m grateful. I’d rather a few bruises than a bullet.”
“I would never let that happen,” I say, bringing my fingers to her skin.
She flinches when the gel hits her flesh. “Fuck, that’s cold.”
“Mama likes to keep it in the refrigerator, though I’m not sure it makes any difference to the effect.”
“My mom always kept it in the refrigerator too. She used to put it on me when I was little if I got sunburned,” she says, her gaze instantly tearing up. “The coldness was always soothing.”
“I’m glad you have lots of good memories of her,” I say as I gently coat her bruised skin.
“She was the best mom.” A tear rolls down her face, and my heart hurts for her.
“I think you should speak to someone,” I suggest, mopping up the tear with the pad of my thumb. “I can get the name of a good therapist, and I’ll cover the cost.”
“Thank you for offering, but it’s too soon,” she whispers before turning her head to the opposite side, away from me.
We don’t speak as I continue to cover her sore skin with the aloe gel. My fingers edge low, brushing against the waistband of her sleep shorts. She squirms a little as I carefully rub the gel in. I could do this all night. I’m addicted to the feel of her velvety-soft skin, and my hand is tingling every time I touch her. Moving my hands back up, I work the gel in with soft strokes so I don’t hurt her. When my fingers brush against the underswell of her breast, I snap myself out of it and yank my hand back. “I think that should do,” I croak, putting the lid back on the gel and jumping to my feet. I adjust myself again in my pants, willing my hard-on to back the fuck down.
“Thank you.” Sloane curls her arms around me from behind, and I close my eyes, savoring the feel of her warm body pressing against mine. My hands cover hers at my stomach, and we don’t say anything as we embrace. I don’t know how long we stand there like that, but when she yawns, the spell is broken.
We separate at the same time, and I slowly turn around to face her. I tuck her hair behind her ears. “Are you doing okay with everything that happened tonight?” My fingers caress her face of their own volition.
“I was terrified,” she admits.
“I can imagine.” My thumb brushes against her lower lip. “I’m sorry that happened, but I promise I will keep you protected and safe.”
“I trust you,” she quietly says, but she looks troubled.
My thumb traces her lips. “It’s late. You should go to bed.”
She opens her mouth to speak, and my thumb slips between her lips without thought. Heat flares in her eyes as her lips wrap around it, and I am going to hell. With my free hand, I tug her body flush against mine. “Go to bed. Please,” I say, groaning as she sucks my thumb while fucking me with her eyes. “Fuck, Sloane.” I remove my thumb and lower my head, needing to kiss her so badly. My lips brush against hers just as my cell rings.
I step back, creating distance between us. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, I quickly glance at it. “I’ve got to take this.” Leaning down, I kiss her soft cheek. “Go to bed, Sloane. I’ll see you in the morning.”
