The Debt / Cross My Hart. Clare Connelly

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СКАЧАТЬ the wall of his chest and, sure enough, that was hard and hot, too, power thrumming through him.

      God, he felt amazing.

      ‘Oh.’ I breathed out slowly, my palms pressing harder, lost for words. ‘Oh…wow… You’re…like…wow…’

      His gaze burned up into mine, the rough lines of his face tight and fierce. His hands tightened and he shifted, flexing his hips, the ridge of his dick pressing against me in the most incredible way, sending a bolt of pleasure right through me and making me gasp aloud.

      But Mr Evans wasn’t simply a machine waiting for me to turn the key. He was already running.

      He lifted a hand, his fingers curling around my black tie, tugging on it at the same time as he leaned forward, catching my mouth with his.

      Heat poured through me in an overwhelming wave.

      I’d never had a kiss like it. Oh, I’d kissed my high-school boyfriend quite a bit, but comparing him to Mr Evans was like comparing a Mini Cooper to a Lamborghini. They were both men and both had mouths but, as far as similarities went, that was it.

      Mr Evans took my mouth as if he owned it, his tongue pushing inside, exploring, demanding a response. He tasted rich and dark, like my favourite chocolate, with a sharp, spicy edge that took my hunger and amplified it somehow.

      I leaned into him, my fingers spreading out on his chest, kissing him back with a desperation I couldn’t hide, unable to stop the moan that ripped from my throat.

      His grip tightened on my tie in response, holding me still. Then he took the cap off my head and threw it on the seat next to him, before pulling my hair free of my ponytail and letting it spill over his free hand.

      He made a soft, rumbling sound of approval before he took my mouth again in another hard kiss, nipping at my bottom lip, sending little electric shocks of pain jolting through me.

      I groaned, the kiss intensifying the ache between my thighs.

      Unable to keep still, I curled my fingers into the cotton of his T-shirt, tugging at it, desperate to touch him as I kissed him back, to feel his skin and the hard muscle beneath under my hands.

      He didn’t move, ravaging my mouth, his grip keeping me right where I was. But I was in the driver’s seat and I wanted to drive.

      Acting on an instinct I hadn’t known I’d possessed, I ground myself down on his lap, twisting so the hard ridge of his cock was pushing against my throbbing clit, sending hard, sharp pulses of pleasure spiralling through my veins.

      A growling sound escaped him, the vibration of it echoing through my entire body, thrilling me, making me so aware of him and his power, his strength.

      I’d never felt so hungry for something in my entire life. Hadn’t known I could even feel this hungry, as if it had been inside me all this time just waiting for the right man to release it.

      My hands shook as I clawed at his T-shirt, dragging it up, and then the hot, oiled silk of his chest was bare and I was touching him, prickles of hair a delightful abrasion against my skin, the rock-hard feel of his muscles a glory.

      Oh, yes, he was just like one of those cars, smooth and sleek, the bass rumble of his engine a delicious thrum as I touched him.

      I could handle this. Oh, I could more than handle this.

      I opened my mouth, kissing him harder, shifting my hips impatiently, being demanding.

      He bit me, a firm nip on my bottom lip that made me gasp, then let go of my tie and took his hand from my hair…before jerking my shirt open with one hard, sharp movement.

      I trembled, the air cool on my heated skin, and then he was pulling aside the cups of my bra, his big, warm hands cupping my breasts, long fingers pinching my nipples.

      I shuddered as sparks of pleasure and delicious points of pain electrified every nerve ending I had. It felt so good, I could hardly believe it. I had the distant thought that after Mark, having someone touching me should have been uncomfortable, but it wasn’t. This made the throb between my legs more intense, the pleasure more acute. No wonder the blonde had been leaning into him.

      ‘Oh, my God,’ I whispered in amazement, arching into his hands as he flicked his thumbs over my achingly hard nipples.

      ‘Yes, you like that, don’t you?’ His voice was as deep and dark as it could possibly get. ‘Now who’s boss, pretty thing?’

      ‘Me,’ I replied, gasping as he pinched me again. ‘I’m the one driving.’

      ‘Are you, now?’ His thumbs circled around each nipple, gentle now, teasing me mercilessly. ‘Then by all means, take the wheel.’

      So I did, spreading my hands out on his chest and pushing him firmly against the back of the seat. Then I reached down to the button on his jeans, pulling at it, trying to get it open.

      He was so hot and he smelled musky, with the bite of some dark spice that had me nuzzling down the side of his neck, biting it so I could taste his skin, kissing his collarbones and nipping at him.

      He cursed, his powerful body tightening, and I clamped my thighs around his waist to let him know that I had no intention of moving and that I didn’t want him to, either.

      But his hands were moving too, finding the button on my trousers and deftly flicking it open as I fumbled with his jeans, then he was pushing beneath the cotton of my knickers, his fingers sliding against my slick flesh.

      Stars burst behind my eyes as a whip of pure pleasure licked across me, tearing another gasp from my throat. His other hand settled on the small of my back, urging me forward and against his stroking fingers.

      ‘Oh…’ I gasped. ‘I… God…’

      ‘Still driving, hmmm?’ he purred in my ear, all arrogant male satisfaction.

      I tried to pull myself together, tugging at his jeans, desperate to get them open and my hands on him so I could stay in charge, but he’d already found my clit and, for all his brute strength, his touch was so gentle, so light that, much to my horror, I felt the prick of tears.

      No. How was this happening? I hadn’t cried for years, not since my mother’s funeral, so why was I crying now? Why was having someone else touch me so much more intense than when I touched myself? Because it was. And I had no idea why.

      I shuddered helplessly, all thoughts about fighting him for control fading away, crushed by the weight of pleasure building inside me.

      ‘Why don’t you let me drive for a change?’ His voice was a low, dark rumble, his finger stroking gently, making me rock against him, desperate for more.

      ‘Yes,’ I panted, barely aware of what I was saying, turning my face into his neck as pleasure gathered tight as a fist inside me. ‘Yes, okay…please.’

      There was something to this, to simply letting him do what he wanted. Like giving myself up to the machine carrying me, to the speed of it. Trusting that it wouldn’t crash somehow.

      Strange to give that trust to a man I didn’t know.

      But СКАЧАТЬ