He would give her anything she wanted—except a reprieve. “It’s too late for stopping and thinking.”
Her eyes widened. “I just went out with another man. I can’t...I shouldn’t...”
“You’re not his—you’re mine.” He leaned down, putting them nose to nose. “You promised me a night, and I will have it.”
Those blue, blue eyes got wider. “Jase,” she said on a soft sigh, and he pressed his lips to hers, silencing her, feeding her the kiss he’d longed to give her all night— Who the hell was he kidding? The kiss he’d longed to give her since the moment he’d met her. One to brand her soul-deep so that she would never forget him.
She opened for him, not only welcoming his tongue but thrusting her own against his. He tasted mint paired with a hint of fresh strawberries, each spiced with a passion he’d never before known.
“Put your arms around me,” he commanded.
She obeyed without hesitation, wrapping one around his neck and the other around his waist, holding him close. Both of her hands trembled as they slid underneath his shirt, reaching bare skin. Breathing became a thing of the past. One simple touch, and yet she branded him.
He kneaded her breasts, reveled in their heavy weight. “I want your shirt off,” he said, already tugging at the material. He ripped her bra in the center—will buy her a new one—and bared her from the waist up, flames engulfing his insides. Gorgeous girl.
“Your turn,” she said, tugging at his shirt.
He jerked the material over his head and dropped it. He meant to kiss her again, needed to, but she stared with rapt fascination at his tattoos and scars.
He saw the question in her eyes and felt he owed her at least a kernel of truth.
“Knife fights,” he told her.
“On military raids?” she asked softly, and he couldn’t bring himself to nod, to lie to her so boldly. She still thought he was a hero. How would she feel when she discovered he was actually a villain?
“Fighting. Hard living.” In prison. Say it. Tell her. But he couldn’t—not yet. Not with her half-dressed before him, almost ready to be taken.
“They’re ugly, I know,” he said. He’d covered most of them with ink, but had left a few free. Reminders of what could happen with a single mistake.
“Ugly? When they proclaim just how strong you are? No. But I wonder...did anyone ever kiss these boo-boos and make them better?”
A tightening deep in his gut. “Never.”
“Here, let me...” She traced the edge of a scar with her tongue, moving along the map to reach another.
He sizzled, as if she’d stroked him with more of those flames, experiencing a hurt so good his knees shook and threatened to buckle.
She reached his nipple, sucked.
Damn. “Harder, angel.”
She did, and he fit his hands on her waist to urge her into a counterclockwise rhythm, brushing her core against his erection. As she gasped with pleasure, he tried to loosen his grip on her, knew he was squeezing too hard, but part of him feared she would float away.
“Jase,” she said, need thick in her tone.
Was she already desperate for climax? “Let me take care of you,” he said, tearing at the waist of her skirt, dragging it and her white cotton panties down her legs. He crouched, ripped off her sandals and yanked the clothing free. He straightened, but didn’t stand, his gaze suddenly riveted on the prettiest little patch of pale curls. He remembered the honey of her taste, and his mouth watered.
“Part for me,” he said.
Her hands flattened against the wall as she rolled her hips toward him, seeking, allowing him to lift one of her legs and anchor it over his shoulder. He started at her knee, kissing his way up, up, leaving a trail of moisture in his wake.
“Please, Jase,” she whispered. “I want it. Need it.”
She wasn’t the only one. Liiick. Right up her center. She was hot, wet. Sweet. And he nearly came from the taste of her alone.