I shouldn’t be kissing him.

That thought keeps ringing through my head, even as his tongue slides into my mouth and I’m wrapping mine around it, groaning as I drink in the taste of him.

I shouldn’t be kissing him.

Again, it sings through my brain, even as my fingers wrap in his hair and his tangle into mine. Even as we become nothing more than two people searching, all tongue, lips, teeth and… hunger.

It’s the single most intense kiss I’ve ever had in my life and at the same time it’s sweet. I never knew that was possible. I had no idea that a kiss could be thick with hunger and sweet at the same time, but Noah’s kiss is exactly that and it’s like a drug, firing through my system and making every nerve ending come alive and pulsate.

I shouldn’t be kissing him.

Over and over I hear it, despite the roaring of my blood, the thrumming of my heart and feeling him yank my shirt over my head so harshly that my arms are forced to let go of his gorgeous, thick, mane of hair. To the point that they go straight up and then I’m helping him pull my top off—which is really his top, but at the moment I don’t even care about that.

We both suck back air in the few moments we’re apart and then he’s at me again, claiming my mouth, his tongue a warrior that conquers and owns.

“Fuck, Gorgeous,” he growls and the deep tone in his voice and the thick hunger in it combine to make wetness glide between my legs and my clit spasm.

Fantastic.

Never. Never has anything like that happened. Never has a kiss left my body quaking…

Not until Noah.

This, with Noah is different.

But…

I shouldn’t be kissing him.

I tell that voice in my head to shut up, not that it matters, because Noah isn’t kissing me now. Now he’s doing something else. Now he’s biting down my neck. Not light nips, but not harsh ones either—somehow, these are just right. These are so right that I tilt my head, giving him even more access. His hands move down to cup my breasts, one in each hand and he squeezes them gently, weighing them and I even like that. In fact, it could be said, that I like everything he’s doing right now. I find myself wondering how it could get any better.

But then it does.

His thumbs simultaneously sweep across each of my nipples and my back arches high and if I could I’m pretty fucking sure I’d purr in that moment. I can’t though, because Noah’s mouth is back on mine, owning and possessing and giving me even more than before.

We repeat ourselves, only this time it’s me with my hands bunching up his T-shirt, me forcing it up. Noah pulls back, taking his lips and his tongue away from me and I whimper, not liking that, not liking that at all. Perhaps neither does Noah, because he quickly dives back for just a quick peck, his tongue swiping along the seam of my lips. But that’s good, that’s divine and I take it, even open my lips to invite him in deeper—which makes him growl. It’s a growl I like and one I’m sure means that more is coming, but I was wrong because he pulls away more this time.

My eyes open, disappointment so thick I’m pretty sure I could choke on it. But then, I raise my eyes to his heated gaze and the hunger is so deep in those brown eyes it pierces something inside of me.

Noah calls me gorgeous. I’ve never felt that. Not once in my life have I ever felt that way.

Until this moment.

That look on Noah’s face, the hunger in his eyes that is so intense it almost burns me… that makes me feel… gorgeous.

That’s when it dawns on me, he’s not stopping this, he’s taking his shirt off. Then all thought ends because I take him in. The tattoos which ink his skin and look hot and sexy doing it, the scattering of light hair on his chest I want to brush my fingers against—so I do, the deep golden tan that covers him, and finally those abs.

I’ve heard of men with washboard abs, but I’ve not actually seen them. He’s got a six-pack, I know because I can count every damn one of them—they’re that defined. Noah is a work of art and each indention outlining a new ab is a place I want to run my tongue. So, I do that too. I bend down, placing first a kiss against his skin. The heat rolling off of it surprising me but making me even wetter. He’s like an electric blanket that covers you on a cold winter’s day—but better because with that look in his eyes you knew there was so much pleasure waiting you might never recover.

I let my tongue drift across his flat stomach, tasting his salty skin and loving it in a way that I know it will stay with me.

“Gorgeous, you keep doing that and that tongue of yours is going to be busy,” he growls, each of his hands coming out so that he holds my head on either side, his fingers massaging into my scalp and trying to lift me up.

I know what he means, of course. He’s got on extremely loose shorts—the kind basketball players wear, but Noah wears his so much better. As I’m bending down to kiss his stomach, the hard ridge of his cock bumps against the underside of my chin. I can literally smell his excitement, his need to come.

I brought him to his. I did. Just plain me, Rory McDaniels.

I hook my fingers in the waistband of his shorts and look up at him and grin. When I pull, he lifts up and we do it so smoothly that the shorts are gone and he’s on the bed gloriously naked in seconds.

I wrap my hand around his cock. It’s so wide that it completely fills my hand. He’s harder than I thought was possible, impossibly stiff to the point I can feel the bulging veins pulsate against my skin. I stroke him once and I’m immediately rewarded with Noah’s growl of approval. His hand comes down against the side of my neck and he holds me firmly. Our eyes lock on each other. I do it grinning, he does it looking like he wants to devour me.

“Open that mouth wide for me, Rory,” he orders.

I’ve had a few lovers, not many and none in a very long time. When your ex is the type of man that makes sleeping with the devil himself appealing, you tend to swear off the male population for life. Still, I’ve had sex and some of that sex has been good. A couple of times I thought the sex couldn’t be topped. All that said, never have I had a lover that comes off so dominating and forceful. I would have thought—especially with my history—that would be something to destroy my desire. The opposite is true. With Noah’s hoarsely ordered demand, I’m so wet the insides of my thighs are painted with my desire to have him inside.

Somewhere in the back of my mind is that still, small voice.

I shouldn’t be kissing Noah.

I ignore it as I lower my head—with a little help from him, as he pushes my head down toward his cock. I ignore that voice gleefully, as I swallow down inch after inch of his shaft until my gag reflex is triggered because I’ve gone as far as I dare and there’s still a couple of inches of him left.

I ignore that damn voice and I do it moaning around Noah’s enormous cock.

Any woman would… I just happen to be the lucky one.