Destroy Me - Ella Sheridan Page 0,34

choked it back, lifted his head from the sight of all that creamy skin, those full tits—

And looked straight into gold-flecked eyes mere inches from his.

Lyse’s breath caught. Time froze as they stared at each other, as his heart thundered against his ribs and the pounding of Lyse’s heartbeat vibrated beneath his hand. He hadn’t realized he was moving closer until her breath whispered across his lips.

They opened.

“Fionn?”

He should stop—he knew it. Lyse probably knew it too. But he couldn’t; he had to be tasting her. Just a wee bit. One small taste…

Her mouth flowered open beneath his. Heaven, that’s what he found inside her. And hell, because she was the sweetest thing he’d ever had in his mouth. He wanted more, and he went after it, licking into her, playing with her tongue, tracing the lips that felt like the softest velvet. He tilted his head until the fit was just right, until he could thrust inside her, tempt her tongue to join his. Until sweetly, tentatively, she did.

He couldn’t hold back the groan then.

Lyse tipped her head back, breaking free to suck in a deep breath, and he took the invitation, tracing her skin with his lips, his tongue, his teeth. Goose bumps rose beneath his touch, telling him all he was needin’ to know about her response. Pleasure flared deep in his gut, unlike anything he’d felt before. This was where he was meant to be, lost in her taste, in the wonder of her smooth skin beneath his mouth and hands. He shouldn’t be kissing her, exploring her…should he? It didn’t mean anything. Lyse was convenient. Here. Except he wasn’t wanting to stop, especially not when his hand glided along her flat belly to the heated core of her body and pushed hard between her legs, seeking out the warmth he had to have now, this second, before his heart took its very next beat.

Lyse’s thighs opened to his demand. A shudder went through her as his fingertips reached her pussy. “Fionn!”

He jerked back, blinking away the fog of lust. Lyse’s face came into focus, desire giving her a sweet glow he’d never seen before. A glow he wanted to see over and over. He’d never be after gettin’ enough of her.

Of Lyse.

His gut lurched. He shoved up onto his feet and backed away until he hit the dresser across the room. As far away as he could get.

Lyse blinked wide, hurt eyes up at him. “Fionn?”

He leaned back, letting the hard edge dig into his spine. Refusing to speak.

“I don’t…” Lyse shook her head. Her gaze shifted from his, landing somewhere near his chest. “I-I don’t understand what’s going on here.”

He didn’t understand it either, and that was driving him fecking crazy. “I’m getting you ready to shower.”

“No,” she said, meeting his eyes again. Letting him look down deep inside her—or was she? A vee dug a groove between her brows like she was trying to find the words to explain. He wanted to shout at her to stop, to keep it all bottled up inside until he could walk through the door and out of her life.

Because he didn’t have the answers. He didn’t want the answers, didn’t want to think about it, talk about it, have it be real.

“I mean us, this,” she insisted. “Why, if you hate me, do you keep touching me?”

Because I can’t keep my hands under my control—and that’s never happened before. I’m always in control. And I hate you for breaking that in me more than anything else.

He shoved his fingers through his hair, pulling tight. “Feck if I know.”

Lyse rocked back, her eyes darkening as he stared her down. “So I’m a toy? Is that it?”

“You’re not a toy, Lyse. And I’ve never treated you like one.”

“Then this is, what? Convenience? You said you loved tits. Maybe mine are just irresistible when your hands get too close to them. You need a woman and I’m right there, so why not?” Fire lit in her eyes. Anger. Her body tightened as the emotion washed through her in an almost visible wave. “You want sex and you’re stuck on assignment with only one convenient woman, even if it’s a woman you hate, is that it?”

“Damn it, I’m not sleeping with you!”

“Why not?” She tried to shift back on the bed, stopping only when pain forced her to—he could see it in the way her fingers balled into fists, the way the white lines appeared around her mouth. The way