Read Online Tell Me a Secret (The Story Series Book 4) by Tamara Lush - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tamara Lush
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much less kissed or touched. With each swipe of his thumb, I felt like I was disintegrating from the heat he inspired.
His hypnotizing eyes fixed on me. Or maybe he was just trying to focus because he was so intoxicated. Regardless, his stare made heat spread down my face, neck, and beyond.
“Emma, let’s go up to the room and lie down together. Please?”
I shook my head in an exaggerated manner and waggled my finger. “If I go up to the room, you know what will happen.”
“I don’t think so, because I’m too drunk.”
“It might not happen tonight, but it will in the morning.” I lurched forward to murmur into his ear, trying to remember if I’d used these words in an erotica scene in one of my books. “I’ll wake up and I’ll climb on top of you. I’ll want to fuck you awake.”
He growled, then cupped my face roughly, kissing me hard. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Did you just growl at me?” I teased.
“Mmhmm.” Then he pulled away, a plea in his eyes. “Please? I’m really drunk. Let’s go up. Let’s just sleep together. Promise.”
I nodded, suddenly too overwhelmed and tired to banter or debate the issue. Sleeping next to someone seemed like an excellent idea. Sleeping in someone’s arms sounded like heaven after nine awful months alone.
Even if the someone was my husband’s brother. Maybe especially wonderful if the someone was familiar, like my husband’s brother. Someone who I’d obviously been subconsciously lusting after, now that I thought about it while in my drunken state.
As we wove our way to the elevator, he slung his arm around my shoulder like we’d been down this path together a hundred times before. Once inside the elevator, he kissed me ravenously, pressing me against the wall with an unnecessary but completely welcome urgency.
“Fuck,” I said, my chest heaving. He laughed darkly.
I barely recalled getting out of the elevator. The strange, rust-and-sunflower-yellow pattern of the hall carpet hypnotized me as I tried to walk. At his door, he fumbled for the key and I propped myself along a wall to keep from tumbling over. Once the door was open, he pulled me into the suite. With a toss of my purse on the floor, I paused at a small table, resting my hands on the marble top. I closed my eyes and tried to steady the whirling room.
He came up behind me and lifted my hair, kissing my neck slowly, sensually. His mouth was soft, addictive. I bit my lip to keep from crying out from the sheer goodness of his lips, but I gave in and moaned softly when he reached around to cup my breasts. His fingers slipped under the edge of my dress and caressed a nipple. I leaned back into him, squeezing my thighs together.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, stunned I was so wet between my legs. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulled my head to the side and bit me softly, all while grinding his hips into my ass. His touch was promising and, with the right encouragement, could give me what I desired.
“Bite me harder,” I demanded. This night was already decadent, and I figured I’d just spice it up more by asking for a little roughness. It was what I needed, what I’d missed since…
Since my husband had disappeared.
“The bed, Emma.” His voice was a deep buzz, and I complied, guiltily shoving thoughts of Caleb out of my mind. Apparently I’d moved a little too fast, because the room spun faster when I plopped on the bed and stretched out my legs.
“Take off my flip-flops,” I whispered, unclasping my necklace and tossing it to the nightstand with an expansive flick of my wrist. Jesus, I was drunk.
He bent over and slipped the shoes off my feet. “Wait, stand up.”
I did and watched him carefully pull down the duvet and sheet. He was even more precise than Caleb. The thought made me laugh, then a flicker of sadness lodged in my chest.
“Get in bed, beautiful,” he said, slapping me on the ass as I tumbled onto the bed, the previously sensual mood shattering. I giggled,
His hypnotizing eyes fixed on me. Or maybe he was just trying to focus because he was so intoxicated. Regardless, his stare made heat spread down my face, neck, and beyond.
“Emma, let’s go up to the room and lie down together. Please?”
I shook my head in an exaggerated manner and waggled my finger. “If I go up to the room, you know what will happen.”
“I don’t think so, because I’m too drunk.”
“It might not happen tonight, but it will in the morning.” I lurched forward to murmur into his ear, trying to remember if I’d used these words in an erotica scene in one of my books. “I’ll wake up and I’ll climb on top of you. I’ll want to fuck you awake.”
He growled, then cupped my face roughly, kissing me hard. “Is that a bad thing?”
“Did you just growl at me?” I teased.
“Mmhmm.” Then he pulled away, a plea in his eyes. “Please? I’m really drunk. Let’s go up. Let’s just sleep together. Promise.”
I nodded, suddenly too overwhelmed and tired to banter or debate the issue. Sleeping next to someone seemed like an excellent idea. Sleeping in someone’s arms sounded like heaven after nine awful months alone.
Even if the someone was my husband’s brother. Maybe especially wonderful if the someone was familiar, like my husband’s brother. Someone who I’d obviously been subconsciously lusting after, now that I thought about it while in my drunken state.
As we wove our way to the elevator, he slung his arm around my shoulder like we’d been down this path together a hundred times before. Once inside the elevator, he kissed me ravenously, pressing me against the wall with an unnecessary but completely welcome urgency.
“Fuck,” I said, my chest heaving. He laughed darkly.
I barely recalled getting out of the elevator. The strange, rust-and-sunflower-yellow pattern of the hall carpet hypnotized me as I tried to walk. At his door, he fumbled for the key and I propped myself along a wall to keep from tumbling over. Once the door was open, he pulled me into the suite. With a toss of my purse on the floor, I paused at a small table, resting my hands on the marble top. I closed my eyes and tried to steady the whirling room.
He came up behind me and lifted my hair, kissing my neck slowly, sensually. His mouth was soft, addictive. I bit my lip to keep from crying out from the sheer goodness of his lips, but I gave in and moaned softly when he reached around to cup my breasts. His fingers slipped under the edge of my dress and caressed a nipple. I leaned back into him, squeezing my thighs together.
“Oh my God,” I whispered, stunned I was so wet between my legs. Grabbing a fistful of my hair, he pulled my head to the side and bit me softly, all while grinding his hips into my ass. His touch was promising and, with the right encouragement, could give me what I desired.
“Bite me harder,” I demanded. This night was already decadent, and I figured I’d just spice it up more by asking for a little roughness. It was what I needed, what I’d missed since…
Since my husband had disappeared.
“The bed, Emma.” His voice was a deep buzz, and I complied, guiltily shoving thoughts of Caleb out of my mind. Apparently I’d moved a little too fast, because the room spun faster when I plopped on the bed and stretched out my legs.
“Take off my flip-flops,” I whispered, unclasping my necklace and tossing it to the nightstand with an expansive flick of my wrist. Jesus, I was drunk.
He bent over and slipped the shoes off my feet. “Wait, stand up.”
I did and watched him carefully pull down the duvet and sheet. He was even more precise than Caleb. The thought made me laugh, then a flicker of sadness lodged in my chest.
“Get in bed, beautiful,” he said, slapping me on the ass as I tumbled onto the bed, the previously sensual mood shattering. I giggled,
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