The Other Side of Greed (The Seven Sins #5) - Lily Zante Page 0,74

his place. Goosebumps trail along my arms and settle in my stomach. My pulse races.

“I should go,” he says against my lips.

“I should drive you back,” I reply against his. This long, drawn-out phase of kissing and heavy petting without the grand prize is intoxicating. He is all I think about now, he is all I will think about long after he has left me.

His breath is warm and sweet, and I fall, heart first, into another long, soft, sloppy kiss. I ache for his touch, but his hand is on my arm, and as our tongues tangle and duel, the throbbing between my legs deepens. I sigh against his lips. Desire rolls over me. His eyes are lidded, his lips wet, and when we kiss again, it’s not a gentle peck, but a longer prelude to wanting more.

“This is getting uncomfortable,” I murmur, my lips brushing over him.

He stops, moves his head back, examines my face carefully, as if he might forget me.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask, tracing my finger over his moist lower lip.

“What do you want, Kyra?”

I want for him to want me, the way I want him. I want for him to suggest that we go back to his place. “You.”

To my disappointment, this doesn’t seem to bolster his spirits. “Don’t you want me?” I ask, because he’s slow to reply.

“I don’t want to mess things up for you. You being the boss and all.” These aren’t the words I was expecting. He raises his hand to my face again, strokes my cheek, and then my lips.

“We could go back to my place,” I suggest. My clammy legs, my beating heart, my desire for this man are all getting to be too much.

“We should take this slow.” That’s another reply I wasn’t expecting. We have been taking it slow. But then he leans towards me and we fall into another long, sensual kiss that makes my toes curl. His actions don’t mirror his words, and slow isn’t what I have on my mind.

I untangle myself from him, needing to know. “What do you want, Brad?” He’s answered my previous questions and I should be satisfied.

“I want to kiss you like this all over.”

His words paint a picture that my body can’t ignore. “Impossible in here,” I say, sounding grumpier than I intended to.

“How about we head back to your place?”

A bolt of disappointment shoots through my heated skin. I’m not imagining this, his reluctance to invite me over. Something isn’t right, but … I want him. I start up the car and drive to my place.

Less than fifteen minutes later, we’re at my door and I’m fumbling for my door keys. I open the door to my tiny apartment and no sooner has the door shut than he pushes me against it and presses his mouth against mine. With his body tight against mine. The hardness of his erection presses into me, a sharp promise of things to come.

Something feral seems to have unleashed in us now that we’re not in the storeroom at work, or in the car with its display-all windows. His mouth devours me. He rains hot, hard kisses against my jaw, sliding down to my neck, before lifting up my t-shirt and trailing his lips over my breasts and then lower down my stomach.

I shiver. His touch is electric. His lips brush over my skin, and my nerve endings sizzle wherever he touches.

A delicious shiver rolls over me because I know where this is heading. This is the longest time we’ve spent together. Lust pools and spreads between my legs. I bend down, lifting his head up, desperate for his kiss again. We groan against each other’s lips, hands feeling, stroking, kneading. He stands up slowly, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, claiming me, making me forget to breathe. I take his hand and lead him to my bedroom where we fall onto the bed. At first it’s him on top of me, before I win and get on top of him.

It’s heat and sizzle, playful domination, lips pressed together. When he’s on top again, he pulls off his t-shirt. My mouth hangs open because he has a physique that he hides well. I reach out, touching the corded outlines of his muscles. My breath stills as I gawk at him in awe filled with need and longing in one sweaty, desperate aphrodisiac. Before I can trail my hand along his six-pack, he switches us, masterfully turning