Page 33 of Jameson’s Salvation

“Because, I’m going to kiss you, and I need to know if you’re sober.”

Butterflies took flight in my belly and nerves set in. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered if I’d ever get used to Jameson being so forward. Jameson didn’t give me time to process my thoughts because his hand went to the side of my face and slid into my hair, and simultaneously he pulled me toward him and he leaned in.

Our mouths met and his tongue brushed my bottom lip. Without thought or hesitation I opened for him. Not that I was doing much thinking as his tongue swept in and tentatively slid against mine. I’m not sure which one of us moaned, but the sound echoed in the silent room. Jameson deepened the kiss and lifted me up off the cushion and pulled me astride him.

Gone were the butterflies dancing in my stomach. The excitement of the kiss pushed everything aside. I could feel the hard length of him pressed tight against my wet center and I rocked my hips. His grip in my hair tightened and he slanted his head, taking a seriously hot kiss and making it hotter.

I’d never been kissed like this before. Never felt the raw need and passion. Jameson wasn’t kissing me, he was devouring me. All I could do was follow his lead, let him take me where he wanted us to go. I was more than okay with that, I didn’t want to do anything but feel the anticipation he was building.

Without warning, he broke the kiss and shoved his face in my neck. I would’ve been seriously disappointed but his tongue lashed out and he was doing exactly what I’d fantasized about doing to him, blazing a trail down my throat to the swell of my breasts. His hands went to my hips and he easily lifted me higher so he could continue to lick and suck on the skin there.

“Sweet Christ, I knew it’d be good,” he said without lifting his head. “But I had no idea.”

Needing the friction back, I adjusted myself back over his hard-on and ground down.

“Fuck, Kennedy,” he groaned.

One of his hands left my hip and went to the collar of my tank top. I heard it tear as he yanked it down, settling it under my breast.

His mouth latched on to my nipple through the lace of my bra and my back instinctively arched.

“More,” I begged.

He sucked harder and I moaned.

“More.”

He tore the lace down and his tongue flicked against my bare breast.

My hips were moving on their own accord. I wasn’t thinking about anything other than how good he felt under me and the sensation his mouth was creating.

All I knew was I needed more. All of him. I wanted the layers of clothes between us to be gone so I could really feel him.

11

Jameson

Jameson was fighting for control.

He’d had no clue that the reality of Kennedy would be so much better than anything he could’ve dreamed up, or he would never have kissed her.

He wasn’t sure if either of them was ready to go any further. But damn if he didn’t want to fuck the hell out of her. There was nothing timid or shy about Kennedy, he’d been stupid to think there was. The moment their mouths had touched, he knew he was in trouble. And when she’d swung her leg over him and started rubbing herself on his dick, he knew he had a bigger dilemma than he’d been prepared for.

The woman was incendiary.

And his plan to take things slow had gone up in smoke.

Kennedy’s hands went to the hem of his tee and he had no choice but to sit forward so she could pull it over his head. Unfortunately, this meant he’d lost the pleasure of her nipple in his mouth. And damn if she didn’t taste sweet.

Before he could stop her, she had his pants unbuttoned and the zipper pulled down. With her gaze downcast watching what she was doing between his legs, he couldn’t see her face but he could see her forehead wrinkle—probably in shock finding he went commando. Without the barrier of boxers, the head of his dick was in full view. And he didn’t need to look to know it was dripping.

Her finger smeared the liquid around the tip and a shock of excitement flooded his body. He had to shut this down. They were already edging on the wrong side of his good intentions. Another touch and he may give into what they both wanted.

“Baby.” His hand went to hers and grabbed her wrist, bringing her hand up and settling it on his chest. Though he quickly found, that was no better. It didn’t matter if she was touching his dick or any other part of his body, it sent waves of need through him.

“Please, Jameson. More.” Her tiny hand was rough from working and scraped his skin as she roamed his chest and abs, ratcheting up his desire.

She was going to be the death of him.