Faker - Sarah Smith Page 0,104

you for so long. So much. So bad,” he says quietly. He grabs me by the chin and pulls my mouth to his. It’s a kiss so deep and rabid, I can hardly breathe.

I grip his shoulder, my fingers digging into the unyielding flesh. I shift against his lap. The hardness underneath me is unmistakable.

I run both my hands over his torso and bend down to kiss every bulging muscle I encounter. He leans his head back against the top of the sofa, his eyelids nearly closed. The parts of his eyes that manage to peek through are clouded over. He is drunk with pleasure. I release his shirt from his body button by button, kissing each patch of blond hair and fair flesh that comes into view as I make my way down. A soft hum emanates from the base of his throat.

“You’re going to kill me,” he says, eyes pressed shut this time. My lips smile against the slit of skin peeking through one of his bottom buttons. Before I can undo the last couple, he lifts his head up and pulls me back to a sitting-up position.

“Death by foreplay,” I rasp. “What a way to go.”

Smiling, he fingers the neckline of my dress again, this time pulling it to the side. His teeth scrape against my collarbone, and it sends a throbbing ache between my legs. It pulses harder than all the other ones he’s given me. I break our kiss, surprised at the intensity.

“You turned off your phone, right?” I gasp. I don’t think I can survive another night of interruptions when I’m this close to going all the way with Tate Rasmussen.

He leads me back to his mouth with a hand at the nape of my neck, pausing long enough to whisper a few raspy statements. “It’s off. From this moment on, it’s just me taking care of you.”

He trails a line of wet kisses and feathery teeth scrapes against the side of my neck. His hot mouth lands at the top of my breast, and I hold my breath in anticipation of what he’ll do next. When his fingertips pull down my bra, I let out a breathy yelp. He pauses and looks up at me, his eyes mischievous. They are the eyes of a man eager to blow my mind.

The instant his tongue slides under the cup of my bra, I’m writhing. It’s just as divine as the first time he performed this move on me. Slow licks turn into soft nibbles, leaving me trembling and gasping.

I can’t take it. My head falls back along with my shoulders, leaving my body limp. There’s a loud noise escaping my lips. It sounds like a moan, but I can’t be sure. The pleasure building inside of me is taking over all my senses, and I’m having trouble keeping my wits about me. The only thing propping me upright is his arms, which are braced securely around my body. If I can barely stand it with my clothes on, then I’m a goner the instant we’re naked.

I don’t know when we decide to move upstairs to his bedroom, but when we do, it’s a decision we make wordlessly. We stand in the middle of his living room, refusing to break our kiss for what feels like minutes. He leads the way upstairs, tugging my hand behind him.

twenty-seven

We reach Tate’s bedroom and I grin. It’s so him. Plain with no decorations save a lamp and a giant map of the world tacked on the wall above his bed. The bed rests on a simple steel frame with no headboard. The cotton sheets are a light slate color. The walls are the same sandy brown shade as the walls downstairs. No accent furniture; just a dresser and nightstand, both made of hardwood.

“Do you live your entire life in neutral shades?” I ask, running my hand over the top bedsheet. It’s softer than it looks.

“Not anymore.”

He pushes me gently by the shoulders onto the bed until I’m sitting. Another nudge and I’m laid flat. He lowers himself onto me, then uses one arm to slide me up until my head reaches his pillow. His subtle show of strength gives me a full-body tremor.

“You’re so strong. I love it,” I say, pulling his lips to mine.

He leans up and tugs off his shirt. Lying underneath his chest is the absolute best way to view his immaculate torso, glistening in the lamplight. All the glimpses I’ve gotten of his bare body