Deep Trouble: A MacKenzie Family Novella (The MacKenzie Family) by Kimberly Kincaid

retreating to let him have control.
    She reached into the tight sliver of space between them, her fingers curling over the black cotton hem of Devon’s T-shirt. Heat moved in a straight shot between her thighs, but he caught her hands, stopping her movements.
    “Kylie. I’m not—”
    “You are.” She cut him off before he could say the words good enough . His eyes blazed like fire-lit whiskey, full of his own burning need, and in that split second, Kylie’s realization settled in, hard and fast.
    All the words in the universe wouldn’t work. She needed to show Devon she trusted him.
    With all of her.
    Kylie took a step back. With quick moves, she toed out of her boots, reaching down to remove her clothes until she stood in front of the bed in nothing but her bra and panties.
    “What are you doing?” Devon asked, the words gravel over silk.
    “I’m showing you what I see.” She climbed onto the bed, tugging back the comforter to expose the plain, white sheets. Her pulse beat a needful rhythm against her breastbone, and she reclined against the pillows to meet his questioning stare.
    “I don’t understand.”
    “Do you want me, Devon?”
    “Yes.” His jaw turned to granite in the lamplight spilling down from behind him. “Hell, yes.”
    Kylie smiled, her own desire spilling all the way through her as she said, “Then take me. Touch me, kiss me, fuck me any way you want. I trust you.”
    A groan slipped past Devon’s lips, but he didn’t hesitate. Pulling his T-shirt over his head, he took off his clothes—shirt, boots, jeans—and dear, sweet Lord, his body was perfect. For a minute, he stood there in front of her in nothing but a pair of black boxer briefs, as if he sensed Kylie’s need to simply take him in.
    And so she did. Smooth, tanned skin covered the tight angles of his shoulders and the solid, muscular plane of his chest. His abs showcased enough definition to be sexy, but not so much that he looked fake. No gym had cultivated these muscles, uh-uh. Devon’s body was a testament to hard work, to running miles on perimeter checks, not treadmills. Kylie’s gaze trailed lower, over the corded V sculpting either side of his hips and the outline of his fully erect cock beneath the fabric in between. Her nipples tightened and pressed against the lace of her bra, the friction sending a tremor directly to her clit.
    “You want me to touch you,” he said. The words held no question, but Kylie answered anyway.
    “Yes.” She nodded, her hair swishing around her cheeks, as wild and unfettered as she felt. Devon moved to the side of the bed, close enough to run a hand from her wrist to her shoulder to the slope of her neck, and she was helpless to do anything other than arch into his touch.
    Devon’s fingers found her cheekbone, his palm fitting reverently over her jaw as he stroked her bottom lip with his thumb. “You’re still swollen here, from where you bit yourself.” Back and forth, his thumb moved, the motion gentle on her tender skin. “Does it hurt?”
    “A little,” she admitted, although she parted her lips wider to accommodate his hypnotic movement. Pain, pleasure, pain, pleasure…the sensations melted together, both of them heightening her arousal, doubling the need under her skin. “But I like it when you touch me.”
    He didn’t stop. Sitting next to her on the bed, he slid the pad of his thumb to the indent at the center of her lips, pressing slowly into the wet heat of her mouth.
    Kylie moaned, opening to let her tongue caress the warm, callused skin of his thumb. But rather than letting her engage, Devon retreated to the spot where her lip met her chin.
    “I want to really touch you. Not where you have to do anything back.” His thumb edged back to where it had been, her nerve endings dancing like little live wires in anticipation, her sex growing wet at the suggestion of his simple touch on her mouth and nothing more. “But where all you do is feel. Will you let me do