The Trouble With Temptation (Second Service Book 3) by Adrienne Bell Page B
Authors: Adrienne Bell
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It wasn’t a part he played for his undercover work. He didn’t want something from her. He wanted her .
Badly.
Acting on instinct, Morgan tilted her hips, rubbing her body against his. Ty’s fingers curled into the flesh of her hips.
A surge of satisfaction rushed through Morgan at the effect she had on him.
She did it again, and was rewarded with a deep, guttural moan. She smiled in victory, but it quickly faded as his hands slid down the inside of her thighs to the edge of her panties. She gasped for air as he slipped one finger underneath.
“Oh God, Morgan,” he whispered, going stock still. He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re so damned wet.”
His fingers curled into the material and slowly dragged the thin silk fabric down her legs. Morgan sucked in a sharp breath as Ty fell to his knees. Her fingers wound through the thick, dark strands of his hair as his lips closed around her clit.
Stars appeared behind her eyelids. She held on to him—barely breathing some moments, gulping great lungfuls others.
Morgan struggled to keep her perch on the edge of the counter. Her legs shook. Her arms trembled. Her strength threatened to leave her at any second.
And then his fingers joined the mix, and she was lost. Morgan cried out as her body clenched around him, but she didn’t fall. He effortlessly held her weight on his shoulders, but he didn’t give her time to soak in the satisfaction.
A moment later, he slid back up through her open legs. One arm hooked under her ass, the other around her back. None of the intensity had faded from his kiss. If anything, it had increased. She could practically feel the passion buzzing inside of him. And it was contagious. The fire inside her reignited almost instantly.
Morgan gave a little gasp as Ty lifted her off of the counter. She pulled her head back.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He arched a single dark brow. Do you really have to ask, he seemed to say.
Oh, yeah. The bedroom. Morgan guessed a nice pillow-top was more comfortable than a granite counter. Not that she had any complaints.
She lowered her head and nuzzled her lips against the column of his neck. Feeling a little bold, she teased the sensitive skin with her teeth. She was rewarded with a low moan. She did it again. This time, his whole body tightened against her.
Suddenly, he changed direction. He took two steps, and lowered her on to something long and soft.
Morgan turned her head to the side.
The couch.
Looked like he couldn’t wait to make it to the bedroom, after all. That was fine by her. The couch worked well enough.
Ty pulled away just far enough to work on the buttons of his shirt. Morgan didn’t stop him. She’d been waiting to see his chest for a while now. Ever since the moment that he’d walked into her club, she’d been fantasizing about what he looked like. A few flicks of his fingers later, she had her answer.
And it was ten times better than she’d ever imagined…if that was possible. He was lean and cut, every muscle that she’d felt through the thin material was clearly defined. She lifted her hands to let them roam over his taut skin, starting at his chest and working down. He felt perfect.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a god.
Morgan looked down as her fingers swept over a hard pucker of skin.
A round, raised scar showed on his hip.
He pulled off his shirt to show a matching one on his right forearm. A faded red slash cut across his left shoulder.
So, he was human after all. And, by the looks of it, he’d been through some rough stuff. There was probably a hell of a story behind those marks, and Morgan was determined to hear it.
But later.
Right now, she was a little busy.
She lowered her hands to the waistband of his pants and gave him a little help with the fly of his jeans. Anticipation made her hands shake a little as she popped open the button and pulled down the zipper. If his physique was better than she imagined, she couldn’t wait
Badly.
Acting on instinct, Morgan tilted her hips, rubbing her body against his. Ty’s fingers curled into the flesh of her hips.
A surge of satisfaction rushed through Morgan at the effect she had on him.
She did it again, and was rewarded with a deep, guttural moan. She smiled in victory, but it quickly faded as his hands slid down the inside of her thighs to the edge of her panties. She gasped for air as he slipped one finger underneath.
“Oh God, Morgan,” he whispered, going stock still. He rested his forehead against hers. “You’re so damned wet.”
His fingers curled into the material and slowly dragged the thin silk fabric down her legs. Morgan sucked in a sharp breath as Ty fell to his knees. Her fingers wound through the thick, dark strands of his hair as his lips closed around her clit.
Stars appeared behind her eyelids. She held on to him—barely breathing some moments, gulping great lungfuls others.
Morgan struggled to keep her perch on the edge of the counter. Her legs shook. Her arms trembled. Her strength threatened to leave her at any second.
And then his fingers joined the mix, and she was lost. Morgan cried out as her body clenched around him, but she didn’t fall. He effortlessly held her weight on his shoulders, but he didn’t give her time to soak in the satisfaction.
A moment later, he slid back up through her open legs. One arm hooked under her ass, the other around her back. None of the intensity had faded from his kiss. If anything, it had increased. She could practically feel the passion buzzing inside of him. And it was contagious. The fire inside her reignited almost instantly.
Morgan gave a little gasp as Ty lifted her off of the counter. She pulled her head back.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
He arched a single dark brow. Do you really have to ask, he seemed to say.
Oh, yeah. The bedroom. Morgan guessed a nice pillow-top was more comfortable than a granite counter. Not that she had any complaints.
She lowered her head and nuzzled her lips against the column of his neck. Feeling a little bold, she teased the sensitive skin with her teeth. She was rewarded with a low moan. She did it again. This time, his whole body tightened against her.
Suddenly, he changed direction. He took two steps, and lowered her on to something long and soft.
Morgan turned her head to the side.
The couch.
Looked like he couldn’t wait to make it to the bedroom, after all. That was fine by her. The couch worked well enough.
Ty pulled away just far enough to work on the buttons of his shirt. Morgan didn’t stop him. She’d been waiting to see his chest for a while now. Ever since the moment that he’d walked into her club, she’d been fantasizing about what he looked like. A few flicks of his fingers later, she had her answer.
And it was ten times better than she’d ever imagined…if that was possible. He was lean and cut, every muscle that she’d felt through the thin material was clearly defined. She lifted her hands to let them roam over his taut skin, starting at his chest and working down. He felt perfect.
Maybe she was right. Maybe he was a god.
Morgan looked down as her fingers swept over a hard pucker of skin.
A round, raised scar showed on his hip.
He pulled off his shirt to show a matching one on his right forearm. A faded red slash cut across his left shoulder.
So, he was human after all. And, by the looks of it, he’d been through some rough stuff. There was probably a hell of a story behind those marks, and Morgan was determined to hear it.
But later.
Right now, she was a little busy.
She lowered her hands to the waistband of his pants and gave him a little help with the fly of his jeans. Anticipation made her hands shake a little as she popped open the button and pulled down the zipper. If his physique was better than she imagined, she couldn’t wait
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