Twist My Heart, Brooke Taylor [best 7 inch ereader TXT] 📗

Every blood cell in his body pumped with heat, but he was too amused by her shamelessness not to grin. “Are you fishing for a compliment?”

“Yes, please.” Blissfully smiling, she tilted her face up as if she were about to bask in the glow of many compliments. When they didn’t immediately come, she scrunched her face and grimaced at him. “Come on. I don’t mind if my ego gets fat. More of it to love, right?”

Nik let out another hearty laugh. He was used to women trying to stroke his ego, not their own—at least not so directly. He much preferred Thea’s approach. He much preferred everything about her.

“Tell me. Please.”

“Okay, okay.” He shook his head. The fantastical imagery of what it might be like to have her touching and tasting his cock returned with a vengeance. Shit. He’d have to hedge. “I was thinking about kissing you again…and doing a few other things I probably shouldn’t share just yet. Why, were you thinking about me?”

“No.”

“No? What were you thinking about?”

The look in her eyes was pure innocence, but her voice purred with molten sex. “French fries.”

A snarl unleashed over his lips as he ensnared her in his arms. With a quick, hard twist he rolled onto his back, capturing her on top of him. Her feminine squeal of shock had him insanely hard.

Nik cuffed her forearms as she playfully, yet futilely, wrestled against him. He enjoyed her carefree smile as she tried to escape his hold. She was strong even though she wasn’t putting all her effort into it. Checking for Titan’s reaction, Nik noted the dog had lazily opened one eye. Luckily, he chose to stay content in his pizza-coma, ignoring his mistress’s predicament as it was all fun and games. But as Thea’s laughter vibrated into him, the reverberations of her body against his weren’t funny at all.

Friskiness slipped away as he set his jaw and swallowed hard. He fought the damn-near animalistic need to burn his body into hers. The primal instinct ripped through his veins, like nothing he’d ever felt before. He longed to claim her right there on the rocks before God, the CIA, and anyone else who might happen to have a drone watching. The sooner the better.

Locking eyes, he fell deep into her whiskey irises. Her eyelids drifted down, pupils widening as if she could read every dark and dirty thought swirling in his mind.

‘Slow is fast,’ the devil on his shoulder coached, exactly as his old SEAL instructors had. Go too fast and you make mistakes. Or, worse, lose the opportunity altogether. Go slow, don’t screw up, and you smoothly get to your goal sooner. The angel on his shoulder responded with the rust of a rarely used tool, cautioning he had no business even considering these thoughts with a woman whose heart might belong to someone else.

Yes, but someone too cheap to buy a ring and not interesting enough to sustain a single memory of, the devil reminded smugly.

‘Slow is smooth, smooth is fast,’ he repeated to himself before releasing her and letting his head fall back onto the sleeping bag. She playfully swatted at his chest a few times before sitting up. Instead of moving off him, she stayed, straddled over his thighs.

His T-shirt had bunched up in the tussle and the chill of the night air skirted across his hot skin. Splaying her fingers over his ribs, she drew her touch down both sides of his bared midsection.

Her fingers idly followed the channels of his oblique muscles before skirting the edge of his jeans and meeting in the middle. She had no understanding of the boiling need waiting barely below the surface. All her lulling eyes could see was his fisted grip boring into the sleeping bag as he held back from tackling her and taking her in one swift move.

Not trusting the sleeping bag’s hold, he locked his hands behind his head. The motion flexed every surface she touched, turning his body into a new, harsher world for her to explore. The ache of keeping his hands off her, allowing her to take her time, made the silky sensations of her cushioned fingertips as cutting as if she’d used dull hunting knifes—torturous in the most pleasurable way possible. He mentally gripped down on the jagged edge of anticipation as lusty thoughts bled out.

Nik’s breathing lurched into panting as Thea’s right hand moved up to swirl over his belly button. Her left remained gripped on the edge of his waistband. Everything inside of him tensed and stilled as she tested the soft texture of the dark hair trailing southbound.

The women he’d been with in the past had followed the signposts his body created for them—the definition in his muscles was practically an adult version of Chutes and Ladders, descend a few rungs then slide down the deep V to where the real games began. They’d rubbed and brushed against him enough to have a fair idea of the size and breadth of what awaited them and were usually eager to get there. Thea, on the other hand, explored only the exposed landscape without aiming to arrive anywhere.

Her movements were unpredictable—one minute her palm curled around the bulge of his biceps. The next, her fingertips danced airily across his rib cage. He found himself completely unprepared as she explored him. The shock of each unexpected touch killed him in the most amazing way possible, but her idle and unorganized expedition was further proof he needed to go slow with her. Trouble was, his heads weren’t exactly communicating with each other and—Cue the fucking Jaws theme music—the naughtier one was dangerously close to blowing everything, pun intended, by making its own appearance out of his waistband.

Thea might’ve understood the concepts at play, but she likely wasn’t prepared for the actuality. From the painful swelling in his jeans, he imagined tugging his zipper down right now would be akin to popping open a massive can of biscuits. Certainly as