Her Silent Revenge novel Chapter 8

Tomorrow, odds are I'll regret every second of this. Hell, I definitely feel pretty nuts right now. But it also feels good, and so does he. "Lady Bug?" he urges.

"If you're going to kiss me, hurry up. Before I have second thoughts."

No need to ask twice. His mouth eclipses mine in a delicious rush that makes my nerves glow like string lights.

My blood ignites.

His tongue claims mine and takes us to cloud flipping nine.

I can barely remember the way to the guest cabin where Kayla said I could crash for the night.

He's still holding my hand, keeping me steady, following my confused turns until I find the right door and lead him inside.

As soon as the door shuts behind us, he detonates me again. Another kiss.

Hard. Hungry. Rough.

Holy hell, I've never been kissed like this in my life.

My only serious boyfriend was a passive guy with awkward lips and a weak libido that had me leading everything. We never went past the make out stage, and I wasn't sorry about it.

Call it shallow, but he never made me feel wanted.

In a single instant, this man does what five months of dates never could. And God, he probably knows how to do everything else, too.

I have no earthly idea what I'm doing in that department, but judging by the confidence of his roaming hands, I don't need to worry.

All I need to do is be ready.

I shouldn't, I shouldn't, but I don't want to stop. So, I don't.

Not when he unzips my dress and shoves it to my feet in a scarlet puddle.

Not when he picks me up and hauls me over to the plush bed.

Not when he unhooks my bra.

It's not fancy lingerie. It's supportive and comfortable, basic with no wire and wide straps. But he doesn't even care as he flings it aside and runs his tongue down my body.

"You're too goddamned beautiful to waste in the casino, playing arm candy," he rasps against my skin. "I want you all to myself."

"Liar." I grin, pushing at his chest. I think he sees it as a challenge.

He laughs darkly and flicks his tongue against my nipple.

The sudden heat sends waves of pleasure bolting through me.

"Does this look like a lie?" he asks, motioning to the bulge in his pants. Of course, he's huge.

The thick ridge pulsing his trousers honestly scares me a little.

"Oh, wow," I whisper. He slides a hand along my thigh and pulls off my panties, and my brain stutters. "Oh my God."

So, this is what I've been missing out on when I bowed out of the whole college hookup scene.

"You want this, Lady Bug? Tell me," he demands against my mouth.

For a second, we lock eyes.

And I fall into the heat, the humor, the dare twinkling in his gaze.

No, I decide. No, we flipping don't.

He reads my mind as I give myself over to his clever hands and wicked mouth.

Soon, I know I was right about one thing—I don't need to worry about my role.

He's in total control, and when he fingers me until I'm drenched and aching and so, so close, I think I'd give him my life.

When he pulls out, unzips his pants, and pushes into me, I tell myself I'm ready.

Wrong.

So wrong.

Nothing could ever prepare me for the world imploding into searing hot stars.

Everything condenses into fire with every thrust, slow and intense and soul-shaking.

Every breath becomes his. Every moan becomes music.

And the only thing that remains is this bright, demanding pleasure he cuts through me with every slash of his hips.

It builds with every thrust, every gasping kiss.