Reckless (Mason Family #3) - Adriana Locke Page 0,65

shoulders, across his rock-hard pecs, and down his chiseled stomach until I find the hem of his shirt. I make quick work of pulling it up and over his head—only letting our lips separate for the briefest of moments.

He tastes like cinnamon and syrup. Heat and spice. Passion and hunger.

Water splashes onto the floor as I help his attempt at getting me out of my shirt by wiggling to separate the wet fabric from my skin.

The feeling of letting go, of giving in, makes me feel alive again.

He flings my shirt across the kitchen. It lands somewhere with a wet thud.

I reach behind me to turn off the water. In response, he pulls me into his body again.

“The ….” I sputter as he nibbles on my bottom lip. “Water.”

With a deft hand, he turns the faucet off.

I pull away, panting for air. He looks at me with the wildest, sexiest eyes.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” he says, trying to haul in oxygen to his lungs.

I hop off the sink. Water comes out with me, pooling at my feet.

I stand in front of him in a pair of soaked shorts and a black lace bra that’s only partially covering my breasts.

But with the way Boone is looking at me, I might as well be wearing lingerie.

The ferocity in his eyes from earlier has eased and is replaced with something else—something softer. Something more intimate. Something that bolsters my confidence to a level I didn’t think I could reach.

I run a hand down the center of his body. “Don’t die yet.” I grin.

He growls as he reaches for me. The hum of his timbre is gasoline to a fire that’s already burning out of control.

I fall into his arms willingly. He kisses me. This time, it’s less starved but sweeter.

It’s just as sexy.

He moves me around the kitchen, his strong arms guiding me to the island. I feel the snap of my bra clasp freeing, and then the air rushing against my nipples as the lace falls to the floor.

“Shit,” he says, taking a step back. He looks me up and down. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”

My first instinct is to cover up. I catch myself.

“Thank you,” I say.

He slips off his sweatpants and drops them to the floor. My gaze falls to his cock.

It’s hard, sticking straight up, with a bead of pre-cum on the tip. He catches me looking and grabs it by the base and strokes it for my benefit.

“Boone …”

My insides twist. The ache between my legs becomes almost unbearable. I pant as my blood pressure soars to dangerous levels.

“I need to grab a condom,” he says.

“Well, run, dammit.”

“I will indeed. Get naked while I’m gone.”

He disappears around the corner, and I do as instructed. I lose my shorts, and my panties are off just as he returns with a condom.

The foil is in his hand. Its gold packaging catches in the light. He’s about to rip it open when I walk up to him and stop him.

His eyes grow dark as he holds his breath.

I drop to my knees on the cold, wet kitchen floor and grab him. His gaze finds mine and holds as I stroke him from the bottom to top and back down again.

He’s firm and hot, the bead of cum warm on my fingers.

Wetness coats the inside of my legs as I kneel before him. I want to do this. I want to give without getting, to take a moment to make him feel the way he makes me feel every day.

I pump him again, my body pulsing too, and take the head of his cock into my mouth. It’s salty and smooth, and I swirl it around with my tongue.

He moans low and deep, his hips flexing forward.

I flick the head with my tongue as I stroke him, feeling him swell in my hand. I cup his balls with my free hand and massage them gently.

With each pump, each suck, his balls tighten. Every squeeze of my hand makes his hips push farther. Each bit of saliva that drips down his length, he works himself a little more into my mouth.

He holds my head still with his hands, and we find a rhythm. Just as I think he’s going to explode, he slips himself out of my mouth.

I rock back on my heels and look up at him.

“Up,” he says. He takes my hand and helps me to my feet.

I open my mouth to ask him what he’s doing, but he