Hangovers and Holidays - Heather Long Page 0,92

if it bothered him at all, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he ran a warm washcloth up the inside of my thigh, and I let out a little gasp.

“Too much?” he teased, not remotely slowing as he wiped me thoroughly from anus to clit and back again. He cleaned my thighs and urged my legs apart so he could study my pussy, and there was something so exposed about lying there while he cleaned up the evidence of the last guy I’d just been with.

But the moment his gaze lifted and the naked lust in his eyes became visible, all my qualms crushed under an answering wave of heat.

“We’re okay,” I whispered.

“Yeah, Angel,” he said, smiling so gently, it wrenched my heart. “We’re more than okay.” He did another pass with the washcloth, then leaned down to press a kiss to the inside of each of my thighs. “We’re okay.” He tossed the washcloth aside and then began to run his hands up and down my thighs as he studied me.

Head tilting, I had to fight the urge to lift my hips at his caresses. Ian stroked me like he owned me, and right now, I thought he just might.

They all did.

Owned pieces of me, and I didn’t plan on taking any of them back.

“What are you thinking?”

“Thinking about all the ways I could do this,” he told me, his gaze leaving fire everywhere he trailed it over me. “I wish like hell I had some silk ties or this bed had slats in the headboard.”

Like his.

I swallowed. Maybe it was playing with fire, or maybe it was the fact that this side of Ian really did turn me inside out, but I stretched my arms above my head and then locked the fingers together. “I can keep them here if you want.”

His eyes flared, and he leaned down to bite the underside of my breast. It was just a hint of teeth, and then a long, deep suck that had me squirming. Hickeys were really becoming a way of life at this point.

“Yeah?” he asked, sliding one hand under my thigh and pushing my leg up until my ankle was against his shoulder.

I nodded.

“You can keep them there?” It was like the question warned me a second before he cupped his hand against my ass and delivered a firmer, more stinging slap that had my hips arching upward. Fuck, that hurt and felt so good at the same time.

I had to be white knuckling my hands to keep them still, but I nodded, a little breathless as he massaged the heat out. “If you want,” I told him, then licked my lips. Ian’s gaze never left my face as he urged my other leg up, and then he was kneeling in front of me, my toes almost touching behind his head as he began to run his dick up and down along my pussy.

“I have one question for you,” he said, teasing me, or maybe teasing us both as he rubbed the tip back and forth, but always skating around my clit like he had to know I was already on edge.

“Okay.” I mustered out the two syllables with some serious effort. Considering the fact that I’d woken up to mind-blowing sex and kisses and now faced more and I hadn’t even had a drop of coffee, I thought I was doing damn good. That, and I was faced with all that golden muscle on his chest and shoulders.

He really was just awesome to look at, and I’d always thought he was good looking, but he was so much more than that.

His smile lit me up as he murmured, “You paying attention to me or my dick, Angel?”

“I can multitask,” I whispered, and he laughed as he nudged inside of me, and I sucked in a breath. I was almost too sensitive, and at the same time, I wanted more. I would have pushed my hips up, but he pinned me with one hand on my hip.

“Yes, you can,” he agreed, then his smile faded and his expression sobered. The rawness in his eyes had me holding my breath. “You know that I adore you, right, Frankie Curtis?”

My heart squeezed as I stared up at him. “I love you, too.” It was almost impossible to ease the words past the lump in my throat, but Ian stilled so utterly at the admission, and then he pushed into me with a relentless thrust as he dropped down to cage

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