Heir to a Dark Inheritance by Maisey Yates - Secret Heirs of Powerful Men 02 - Heir to a Dark Inheritance

Author:Maisey Yates - Secret Heirs of Powerful Men 02 - Heir to a Dark Inheritance [Yates, Maisey]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, fullybook, Contemporary, Contemporary Romance
ISBN: 9780373239115
Google: 9TO2NAEACAAJ
Publisher: Harlequin
Published: 2012-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER EIGHT

JADA’S FINGERS MADE contact with Alik’s heated skin, and a shiver went through her body. She was burned, heat arcing through her, raging in her veins, but she wasn’t hurt. And she didn’t want to take her hand away. Didn’t want to turn from the path she was walking down now.

And then the moment of calm was over. Alik growled, taking her into his arms and pushing her behind the curtain, against the wall. And then he was kissing her. Deep. Hard. Hungry and desperate and everything she’d ever fantasized about. Everything she’d never known to fantasize about.

“Alik,” she whispered, a plea. For him to stop. For him to keep going.

He kissed her neck, her bare shoulder, his hand resting at the base of her throat, gentle, arousing. He spoke to her, low and rough, in more than one language, as if his brain couldn’t settle on one in that moment. Gratifying, since she was no less confused. No less lost in the sensations that were rioting through her.

His other hand rested on her hip, his fingers curling, bunching the thin material of her dress up into his palm, widening the slit that ran up to her thigh. He brushed her bare skin with his fingers, tugged the fabric to the side.

“Alik,” she said again, a warning this time.

“No talking,” he said, kissing her lips.

She didn’t want to talk. She wanted to kiss. So the order seemed fine enough to her. Except there was a reason she was supposed to stop him; she was sure there was. But she couldn’t remember it, and even if she could, she was sure that right now she wouldn’t care about it.

She just kissed him back, sucking his tongue deep into her mouth, feeding off his hunger, letting his desperation fuel her own. She tugged at the material on his suit jacket, pushed it from his shoulders.

He growled and his hand tightened at her throat, then eased, fingertips sliding down, so gentle, tracing her collarbone, curving over the swells of her breasts. She sucked in a sharp breath, her nipples puckering beneath the crimson fabric, aching for him, for his touch.

“Tell me,” he said, pressing a kiss to her neck.

“Touch my breasts,” she said, not sure why it was so easy to tell him what she wanted. Only that, in that moment, there was no time for embarrassment. There was no time for hesitation, for flirtation. She was on the edge of something, something she couldn’t put words to, and she knew that only Alik could take her over.

Alik obeyed her command, his hands coming down to cup her, thumbs teasing her through the gown’s bodice.

She tugged at his tie, loosening it, not bothering to pull the knot out completely. There wasn’t time. Music swelled in the background and she didn’t care. Because her need wasn’t satisfied yet.

For the past three years this part of herself had been dormant. Buried. Lost. She hadn’t experienced desire, hadn’t burned for the touch and kiss of a man.

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