“Unless you tell me to stop.”
Marin closed her eyes, her lashes laying against her cheeks. “I should. We never . . . We haven’t talked.”
“We will. Do you want me to stop?”
“Hell, no. You’re just plain bad for me, Sebastien . . . and I can’t find it in me to care.”
Rolling to his back, he pulled her on top of him, sliding his hands up so that he cupped her breasts. “I don’t have to be bad.” He didn’t want to be bad for her.
She bent low over him, her breasts like an offering now and he rose up, catching one tight nipple between his teeth. She made a low, hungry noise and arched against him. The pressure against his cock was almost enough to make his eyes cross, and then she started to move, finding a rhythm that might drive him to embarrass himself if he wasn’t careful.
It drove him mad, made him want to grab her and flip her over, strip her naked and come inside her—
Swearing, he gripped her hips and arched up, grinding against her.
Marin whimpered and met his movements. He thought maybe he could feel the heat of her through all her layers of clothing.
“Naked,” he said, mental powers reduced down to the absolute basics. “You need to be naked.”
She blinked down at him.
Another slow blink when he shifted their positions again, tucking her back under him. He pushed onto his knees and reached for the button of her jeans, looking into her eyes. Her lashes swept low for a few seconds, but then she looked straight back at him. When he started to tug her jeans down, she lifted her hips to help, and then she sat up, grabbing the hem of his shirt and dragging it upward.
Sebastien hissed as she leaned forward, her mouth hot and open. She dragged her lips from his heart and began to move them, going to her knees as she skimmed her mouth toward his neck before continuing on. Her hands dipped into his hair as she kissed him, her tongue tangling with his, the taste of her a sweet, hot glimpse into paradise.
She tugged at his jeans.
Impatient, he went to deal with it, but she slapped his hands away. “Mine,” she said, her voice husky.
Well. He was okay with that.
It was the truth anyway, even if she didn’t realize that. Everything about him was hers.
“You make my brain melt.” He managed to keep his voice easy and calm as he said it, although his fingers shook a little as he cupped her face. Her eyes were hazy, hot with need. She focused on his face and the smile that curled her lips was enough to make a saint weep.
That lovely face . . . she could have played Helen of Troy—she might have been Helen of Troy. Beautiful beyond words, but Sebastien’s obsession with Marin Lassiter wasn’t because she was beautiful.
Beauty alone wasn’t enough to trip him up. He was surrounded by beautiful women and he knew how shallow that beauty could be. Marin might have been beautiful, but that wasn’t what had him ready to go to his knees in front of her.
Slowly, he slid one hand down the midline of her torso, staring into her eyes as he cupped her in his hand. Wet heat greeted him. Parting her slick folds with one finger, he caught the broken moan that fell from her on his lips. She moved against his hand, her nails digging into his shoulders as the rhythm of her body became more demanding.
She was slippery and tight and the thought of feeling her around him was enough to make him crazy. She closed her fingers around his cock and he growled. Wrenching her hand away, he tumbled her onto her back and shoved his jeans down, freeing himself. He settled between her thighs and cupped her face in his hands. “This isn’t the last time, Marin.”
A shaky breath left her.
“It’s not.” Sebastien licked at the entrance to her mouth before he continued. “I want to lay between your thighs and eat you up like candy, and then I want to start all over again.”
Her face went pink. Sebastien pretended not to notice as he bit her lower lip, tugging gently. “How do you feel about that?”
“I think . . . I think I’m okay with it.”
Okay? Marin’s saner self—that one part of her mind that could still think and wasn’t a jabbering, wilting mess of nerves and need—yet—laughed at her. She wasn’t okay with anything that didn’t involve him coming inside her now.
“Good.”
But the way he’d said it, and what he was doing . . .
He kissed her, his hair falling down to brush against her face. She cupped his cheeks in her hands. Her thumb brushed against the ragged lower edge of the scar and she held him close when he would have tugged away.