The Storm That Is Sterling by Lisa Renee Jones Read Free Book Online Page B

I have…” His fingers trailed her lip. “I want more.” He slid his hand up her back, sensual and strong, soothing her, exciting her, adding to the heat of his words. “I want that date we never had, and I want to convince you I deserve to make love to you. But not here, not in this hellhole of place where you don’t belong.” His lips brushed hers. “So what do you say? Let’s destroy Adam, and get out of here?”
    “Sterling,” she whispered, conflicting emotions welling in her chest at the absolute impossibility of his words ever becoming reality. They were trapped, and she was enslaved to ICE.
    His lips brushed hers. “You should know… it drives me so wild when you say my name.”
    Heat swam through her as the very core of her clenched with desire, and she pressed her hand to his chest, feeling the racing of his heartbeat. She wanted him so badly she could almost forget she needed ICE to survive.
    “We’ll stockpile ICE from the lab every day,” he said, seeming to read her mind. “And the minute we have enough, and you either have an antidote, or you believe you have what you need to make one, you tell me, and I’ll get us out of here.”
    A sliver of hope slid inside her that they could escape, that they could save the city, maybe the world, from ICE addiction. That she was really cured, that she would be free and have a chance to live life, and just maybe Sterling would be a part of that life.
    But hope was something she’d been burned by; hope was something that had lifted her up and stomped on her too many times to count. Hope was the one thing that could still terrify her, destroy her. She didn’t want hope. She didn’t want Sterling to offer her a façade. She wanted to scream at him, to tell him hope didn’t solve anything. But suddenly, his mouth closed over hers, stealing the thought, melting her into the moment. It was a claiming, passionate, hungry, devouring kiss that did exactly what she needed—it pulled her under a spell, made her forget hope, forget fear. There was just need, and a hard, hot male body pressing against hers.
    Something ignited inside her, a wild, urgent burn for this man like nothing she had ever felt. Becca clung to him, touching him, pressing her hands under his T-shirt—taut skin and rippling muscle beneath her palms—and she couldn’t get enough of him.
    “Sterling,” she whispered, arching into him until she felt the thick pulse of his arousal in the intimate V of her body.
    He growled at his name, his hand curving her backside, molding her to him. “You’re killing me woman. I said not here, not now.”
    “We don’t even know if there will be a tomorrow.” She covered his hand on her waist and urged it to her breast. “I don’t want to wait.”
    His forehead rested on hers. “I only have so much willpower.”
    “I don’t want you to have any .”
    His fingers laced into her hair, his lips brushing hers. “This isn’t how I wanted this to happen.”
    She lifted her lips and pressed them to his, being bold when she would otherwise not be, sliding her tongue into his mouth. A low moan slid from his throat, before he slanted his lips more fully over hers, before he tasted her deeply, fervently.
    “I won’t take you like this,” he whispered.
    “I won’t forgive you if you don’t,” she rebutted, feeling as if she had nothing to lose by being bold, nothing except the escape, the pleasure—the opportunity to be with this man she wanted so very much. Her hand slid down his pants, tracing the hard line of his erection.
    He covered his hand over hers, held it there a moment, kissed her. “We’ll compromise,” he whispered by her ear, nibbling the lobe.
    “What does that mean?” she asked breathlessly, a sizzling chill racing over her skin as he pressed her shirt down her shoulder and kissed the delicate skin there.
    “Actions speak louder than words. I’ll show you what it means.” He moved in the darkness, and oh God, he was on the