Grit (Dirty #6) Read Online Free PDF Page B

Carter Bates was a tsunami.
    Linken Elliot is my tranquility.
    I bring the red blossom to my nose, inhaling deeply. I’ve never been a flowery kind of girl. Not even… before . However, this single lotus makes me feel weepy and emotional. Link spoke volumes with this one gesture. Without a word, he told me he was thinking about me. And that’s one of the nicest feelings in the world.
    I place the vase back on the desk just as the office door swings open. Link slips in and flips the lock behind him.
    One of the many perks of working here—office sex with the boss.
    “Come here.” His voice is soft, low, but there’s a clear command there. It sends an excited chill down my spine, but I don’t comply. Instead, I cock a brow in challenge.
    “You come to me.”
    He grins, the tiny dimple in his right cheek winking at me. Damn he has a gorgeous smile. I want to do all sorts of dirty things to it.
    Link pushes off the door, stalking toward me. He rolls the chair away from the desk, lifts me out of it, and plants his own ass in the seat as he lowers me onto his lap.
    “I want you,” he husks. “Right here. Right now.”
    “That’s good,” I breathe, “because I want to give myself to you. Right here. Right now.”
    His lips brush over mine, teasing. “I’m pretty sure everyone knows exactly what we’re doing in here.”
    I shake my head, inching my chest closer to his until there’s no space left between us. “I don’t care about other people.” I slide my tongue over his chin, licking my way into his mouth. He bites down, holding me in place. His hands slip underneath my shirt, fingertips pressing into my back. He sucks hard, prompting me to moan.
    My hands sink into his hair, the strands cool and silky. I tug just because I can. Just because I want to touch him. His palms slide around, drifting to the front of my jeans. He pops the button and drags the zipper down. I mimic his movements, skating my fingers down his chest to his belt and work it through the loops. He rolls us forward until my lower back is flush against the desk.
    One large hand presses into my chest and I lie across the papers and files. I don’t think he realizes the effect he has on my body—and my heart. Link doesn’t say a lot, but he doesn’t need to. I know everything I need to based on his actions. I hold onto his forearm. Fingernails digging into his flesh. His eyes meet mine and I don’t know what emotion he sees there, but his body shudders and his hand trembles between my breasts. His eyelids fall, concealing his gaze.
    I slip my hand down to rest on top of his, quieting the shaking. I watch, mesmerized, as goose bumps race upward, lifting the hairs on his arm. He drops his head, laying it on my stomach. And we stay that way for several long seconds. Just holding on and breathing.
    I think he might have seen. I think he might understand what is getting harder and harder for me to hide.
    I love him.
    I cup his cheek, brushing my thumb over his day’s worth of growth. It’s rough, like his callused fingers. This is what I love most about him, I think. He’s hard and coarse, strong and lethal. He could easily overpower me. Hurt me. He has hurt others. But when he touches me, he’s always careful. Gentle.
    “I can hear your heart,” he murmurs. “It’s racing.”
    For you . It races for you .
    Link’s lips smooth along my shirt, the heat of his breath warming the fabric. He stops over my heart, tugging the material to bare my skin. He places a tender kiss there. Moves down, towing the shirt with him. He glides his tongue in a circle, licking my breast before he pulls my nipple into his hot mouth.
    I arch off the desk.
    He stands.
    The next few seconds catapult into a frantic haze of need and desire. I jerk and wrench at his pants, shoving my own off as I go. He hauls my shirt up and bra down. We’re teeth and tongues and panted breath, licking and kissing every inch of each other we can reach.
    And then he’s inside of