Golden Binds - Page 8

Shit. Fuck. Shit.

“But I want to stay and watch. I’m thinking I might get some pointers. I’ve never been much of a cook.”

If he could boil an egg, he was doing better than she was.

Another step back. He took two forward.

“Of course, if you’re not actually the cook you’re going to have to think of some other way to feed me. And I’m warning you, my appetite is voracious.”

Okay, she knew he wasn’t talking about food. And he was scaring the fuck out of her.

He reached forward to grab her, pulling her towards his wide chest. And for a moment, her whole body melted. She went boneless. He moved in for a kiss. His lips brushed against hers, and all thought fled. He ran his tongue over her lower lip. “Open for me,” he commanded.

She really didn’t want to do that. And then his tongue was in her mouth. How the fuck did that happen?

She whimpered. Who cared? His tongue had talent. It had finesse. And it was sending sharp pulses of pleasure through her body.

Was this what she’d been missing out on all these years? Holy fuck. Her nipples hardened, and she wished she didn’t have all these layers of clothing separating them.

She pressed herself closer. She needed more. She was hungry. Starving. And he was a full course meal just waiting to be devoured.

He reached behind her, squeezing her ass with his hands. Oh, fuck. Who knew that would be a turn on? Her clit throbbed. Sure, she’d played with herself before, but she’d never managed to reach this level of need.

“Easy, baby.” He pulled her up into his arms and she squealed, momentarily thrown. He took a couple of steps and pushed her up against the wall. He kept her pinned there with his hips and reached for the bottom of her T-shirt, pulling it up and over her head.

Doubt suddenly broke through the haze of arousal. Doubt and a whole lot of trepidation. A low whimper escaped her. One he obviously mistook for arousal.

“I know you’re hot, baby. Don’t worry I’m going to take such good care of you. Ever been fucked against a pantry wall before?”

She’d never been fucked at all, so that would be a big fat no.

“Jesus, these are a surprise.” He cupped one breast. “What are you doing hiding these under that baggy sweater? He glanced down at the sweater. “Going to burn that the first chance I get.”

Surprisingly, that was the thing that broke the last of the spell that had been woven around her. That was her favorite sweater. It had belonged to her dad. She loved it. In some silly way, it connected her to him.

And this ass wanted to burn it?

As he buried his face between her breasts, she glanced over to see there was a nice, shiny pot within reach. She quickly picked up the pot, which weighed a ton

, and slammed it against Mr. Hottie’s head.

For a moment, she didn’t think she’d hit him hard enough. He just stood there, frozen. And then he slumped backwards. Caught by surprise, she landed flat on her ass on the floor.

She groaned. If her butt wasn’t black and blue in the morning, it would be a miracle. Shit. She took a moment to collect herself. It wasn’t every day she knocked a guy out who’d had his face planted between her boobs.

When her heart rate finally started to slow, and she stopped feeling like she might throw up, Gigi knelt and crawled her way over to the supine male lying sprawled on the pantry floor.

“Oh, fuck, please be alive. Please be fucking alive.”

Her hand trembled as she attempted to find a pulse on his wrist. Nothing. But then it was kind of hard to feel anything when she was trembling this much.

He had to breathe. She stared at his chest. She couldn’t kill him by knocking him out, could she?

There, his chest moved.

Oh, thank you, God.

He was alive. And if she wanted to stay alive then she had to get out of there. Fast.

Tags: Laylah Roberts Fantasy
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