Dangerously Inked by Eden Bradley Page A

didn’t want to let her go long enough to take the chains off her.
    “Rosie, tell me what it is.”
    “I can’t,” she insisted, her hands going to her cheeks, but he took them and held her wrists tight in one hand. He felt she needed that control from him in order to pull herself back together.
    He pressed her head to his shoulder, held her tighter.
    “Come on, baby. Take a breath. Talk to me.”
    “Finn…it’s just…this is too much. Too much. I don’t want to feel this much. Not the pain. That I can handle. But  this . Between us. This is fucking crazy.”
    “Yeah, it is,” he said quietly.
    That seemed to calm her. He felt her take a breath.
    She said, her voice so low he could barely hear her above the music playing in the club, “It’s not just me.”
    He paused, said, “No, sweetheart. It’s not just you.”
    She pushed back to look at him, confusion in her beautiful blue eyes. Her makeup had run. He took the edge of the blanket and wiped at it. Her lower lip trembled, and his chest ached.
    What the fuck? He didn’t want to make her cry. He wanted…hell, he wasn’t sure what to call it. How to see what it was, exactly. He didn’t know what to do. So he kissed her. Softly, at first. Then, when she wrapped her arms around his neck, he pressed his mouth more firmly to hers. Her lips were so damn soft—plush, pure, warm velvet.
    When she opened for him, he slipped right in, tasting her, needing her. His hands went into her hair and he held her face to his. He couldn’t kiss her hard enough. Couldn’t tell her with his mouth all the things he had no idea how to say.
    He had to find a way.
    He pulled back. “I have to take you out of here. I’m taking you with me to Mick’s.”
    “Yes,” she said. “Get me out of here, Finn.”
    He had her out of the chains in minutes, helped her dress, packed his toy bag. He had one of the dungeon assistants call for a cab, and he put her in it, got in beside her, held her small hand in his.
    At Mick’s place he took her upstairs and into the bedroom that was his while he was in town, his friend staying with his girl Allie. He stood Rosie on the white faux fur rug at the foot of the sleek, modern platform bed and undressed her quickly, undressed himself and pulled her with him into the bed.
    How was it that after their night of kink all he wanted was to be in bed with her, to hold her, to feel her body under his?
    He held himself over her, not wanting to crush her at first. But after looking into her eyes and seeing so much there, he had to feel her flesh, her bones, against his. He lowered his body, kissed her neck, her shoulders, her cheeks, then finally her mouth.
    She hung onto him, her hands on his cheeks, kissing him with the same desperation he felt. Their bodies heated, her hips arching into his. He grew hard, harder, ground against her mound, both of then moving to some sinuous rhythm, hotter and hotter. He paused only long enough to sheath himself, then he was inside her.
    He groaned. She moaned softly, gasped when he tilted his hips, burying himself in her sweet body.
    “Christ, Rosie,” he muttered. “Ah, you feel so damn good. Never felt anything like you, girl.”
    “Finn, I need you,” she said as she arched harder against him, taking him deeper.
    He needed her too. Her body. Her scent.  Her .
    Her hands were all over him, skimming over his back, her fingertips digging into his flesh. Pleasure swarmed him like a warm tide. He slid his hands under her perfect ass and held on, lifting her into his surging cock.
    He felt her shiver, her sweet pussy clenching around him. He went tight all over, crushed her mouth beneath his as he came with her, both of them crying out, shaking as they held onto each other. Gave to each other. His body, his mind…his heart, damn it.
    It was true. He fucking loved her. Loved her.
    Love her.
    He wrapped her in his arms. They panted together. Breathed each other in, their mouths only inches apart.
    She was his,