Grit (Dirty #6) Read Free Page B

groan in protest as he pulls away. His hands circle my hips, rolling me to my back. He adjusts my top, fully revealing my breasts. Steel-gray eyes burn over every inch of me, taking me all in appreciatively. He’s the only man who can look at me this way. Because when Link gazes at my body, I know he sees more than naked flesh.
    He sees me. All the good, and all the bad, and he desires me—not in spite of it, but because of it.
    My fingers curl around his forearms. I tug gently, needing him on top of me, skin to skin. Heat and pressure and hard male weight. He complies, dropping his chest to mine without hesitation. He places a kiss to my mouth; tender in a way I’m still getting used to. It’s unhurried, deliberately measured. His tongue slides along my top lip, then over the bottom. He bites softly before sucking it into his mouth.
    I can’t take it anymore. I shove my shorts farther down, kicking them off and lock my legs around his waist, pulling him snugly against me. My hips shift, grinding into him. It’s a heavy contrast from the agonizingly slow-moving way his tongue caresses mine.
    Link releases an approving growl. I can feel the vibration travel from his body to mine and I echo the sound.
    He drags his lips over my chin and down my neck, sucking on my hammering pulse point.
    “Rocky,” he rasps my name, causing my stomach to clench. I’ve tried to never let it bother me that the man I love has another woman’s name tattooed over his heart, but it’s difficult. To hear him call my name with barely controlled restraint, to be fully in this moment with me and only me, it gives me hope for this unnamed relationship I’m wholly invested in.
    He slides down, scraping his body along mine. Strong fingers caress my mound. His eyes flick from my face to my pussy as if he can’t decide which he wants to look at more.
    I grasp his hair, relishing in the fact he has plenty to grab onto now, as he dips his head. The sweep of his tongue is a repeat of the way he kissed me. Long, leisurely strokes. Nibbling and sucking, intentionally working me up steadily.
    He holds me to the bed as I begin to thrust, searching for more pressure, begging for more friction.
    “Fuck…” I pant the one word, unable to form complete sentences. “Link… Please.” I’m so close. Ecstasy is just out of reach. But he knows that. That’s the point. I could take control back. He’d let me. But that would end this sweet torture. And neither one of us want that.
    He presses a finger inside of me, and then another, circling and pumping. I feel myself clamp around him as I break apart, finally finding the bliss I seek.
    Before Link, this is where I’d be done. I’d pull up my panties and hightail it as quickly as I could. That isn’t the case now. There is nothing I want more than Linken Elliot’s rock-hard body all over mine. I want him inside of me, filling me. I want to be as close as two people can be.

 
    Two
    Link
     
     
    Rocky’s dark eyelashes brush my skin as she nuzzles into my chest. We’re both sweaty and sated after a morning tangled in the sheets. My heart is hammering against my ribcage, breath ragged, as the adrenaline fades.
    I skate my fingertips over the curve of her spine, savoring the silky smoothness of her skin. Sundays have quickly become routine. Neither one of us do much of anything—except for each other. The day is ritually spent in bed. It’s the only day of the week I’m not consumed with the sensation of lingering doubt.
    I’ve made a lot of terrible decisions over the past four years. I’ve done things that haunt me every second of the day. Sunken to depths only monsters are familiar with. At every turn, I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop. For this foreign life of happiness—that is quickly becoming not so odd a thing—to blow up in my face. For Rocky to realize she deserves more than a man— a murderer —who can’t let go of his dead girlfriend. I wait for Carter Bates to walk on a