Rogue Descendant (Nikki Glass) - By Jenna Black Page 0,93

or even with the faintest hint of a smile. I slid my hands up his chest and looped them around his neck, pulling his head down toward me.

For all his protests, he didn’t resist. His lips came down on mine, and there was no longer room in my brain for anything but the taste of him, the feel of him against me. He was rapidly hardening beneath those soft flannel PJs of his, and I wished I were taller so I could grind something other than my belly against him.

Jamaal apparently had a similar thought, because his hands slid down my back to my butt and he boosted me up with casual strength. I groaned into his mouth and wrapped my legs around him, reveling in the feel of him. His tongue stroked mine rhythmically, and I grabbed hold of a double handful of his hair to remind myself not to let my hands wander. It was hard to remember anything at the moment, hard to think of anything but how glorious his lips felt as he kissed me.

My heart was already tripping along happily in my chest, but when Jamaal carried me through the sitting room and into his bedroom, I thought it might burst. I wanted him more than I wanted my next breath, wanted to lose myself in the sensations he sparked in my body, but I knew from past experience that I needed to keep some small section of my brain on-line and functional if I didn’t want to scare him off again.

Jamaal laid me down on the crisp white sheets of his bed, pushing the covers further aside without breaking the kiss. He came to rest on top of me, his lower body held in the cradle of my legs, which I kept wrapped around him. My hands yearned to explore, to tear away the clothing that separated us. I wanted to feel his skin, hot and slick against mine, but I didn’t dare make any overtures.

I let go of Jamaal’s hair and groped for the headboard. I hadn’t paused to examine it when Jamaal had carried me in, but I had a vague impression it was carved of dark wood and had some posts I could hold on to. Maybe if I kept my hands out of the fray entirely, I could keep them from wandering when they shouldn’t. I found a couple of handholds and latched on, still kissing him for all I was worth and holding him close with my legs.

I almost howled in protest when he broke the kiss, but he didn’t withdraw from me, merely cupped the side of my face in his hand and stared down into my eyes. With his erection pressed up tight against me, there was no missing his desire. Unfortunately, there was no missing the hint of fear in his eyes, either.

“I want you,” he whispered, then rolled his hips against me to emphasize his point. I gasped in pleasure and arched my back. “But you know I have . . . issues.”

I let go of the headboard long enough to run my fingers down the side of his face in a caress that I hoped was equal parts sensual and comforting. “I know. I don’t care about your issues. Tie my hands so I don’t get careless, and then have your way with me.”

A tremor ran through him, and he closed his eyes.

Shit. I was losing him.

“Don’t you dare stop now!” I said, clamping my legs even more firmly around him.

“You deserve better than me.”

“I’ll decide what I deserve.” I was somewhat heartened by the fact that despite his words, he was still rock hard against me. There was a part of him trying to withdraw, but it wasn’t all of him. “I want you inside me.”

He shook his head. “You don’t understand. I had an owner once . . . The scars turned her on. She—”

I shut him up with a kiss, gently taking hold of his lip between my teeth when he would have pulled away. Apparently, he found that sexy, because he momentarily forgot his objections and returned my kiss with an intensity that took my breath away.

He was panting heavily when he ended the kiss. “Have to keep my shirt on,” he said between breaths.

“Don’t care,” I said, and realized I was panting with need, too. Actually, I did care, but the time to talk to Jamaal about whatever had been done to him to make him so skittish about