Page 45 of When There Was You
I clear my throat and gaze up at him. He’s ridiculously tall; he probably has seven inches on me. “Uh, just to be straightforward, this is a no-strings-attached, one-time offer.”
He grins—the panty-dropping kind, except mine are already wrecked.
His mouth lowers to my ear. “So you just want a man…who knows how to pleasure a woman…to make you come so hard you see stars? Fuck you slow, deep, senseless? As many times as you can take it?”
Oh my god.
My heart hammers alarmingly fast. When his fingertips trail brazenly down my neck and over my breast, tiny chill-bumps erupt across my skin. I’m tingling all the way to my toes.
“Got it,” he murmurs.
I’m in major trouble.
That low-pitched voice. That sexy confidence. And that goddamn scent…what is it? Woodsy and a hint of something sweeter, like maple. I swear this guy’s a lumberjack dripping syrup on his abs with eyes like a verdant forest.
Get it together.
The elevator dings and Butch drops his roving hand as two women enter, immersed in conversation as one depresses the button for her desired floor. Butch’s eyes never leave mine, a wicked grin dancing on his lips as the women continue debating some beauty pageant rule and how unfair it is to their daughters.
My pulse lowers for five seconds. I can barely look at him. Those eyes. Such a deep emerald green. What woman can survive his penetrating stare wrapped inthatpackage? I’m entranced, like I’ve joined a cult and he’s the leader.What is happening here?
The elevator chimes for our floor.
“Pardon me, ladies,” Butch says, and they part like the Red Sea.
Like how my thighs are about to.
He touches the small of my back and I coax my unstable legs to move. It’s embarrassing how weak-kneed I am. We make it to my room, but the card key refuses to cooperate no matter how much I swipe it. I’m entirely flustered.
“May I?” he offers.
“Please.”
One try and it opens effortlessly for Butch.Of course.Pushing the door with his giant arm, he holds it open for me. It closes behind us with a deafening clang. My nerves rage, and I’m suddenly acutely aware of being out of my depth. For all my bravado, this isn’t exactly my thing. I’ve just invited a stranger to have sex.
He approaches with those forest-green, cult daddy eyesfastened on me. “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you now,” he purrs in that bass timbre.
The satchel clutched in my hand drops to the floor. My mouth goes dry, and I swallow with difficulty.
He cups the back of my head and corrals my waist with those sure hands. My heart thuds harder as he guides us together.
Mr. Lumberjack presses his lips to mine and sparksfly, igniting a wildfire engulfing me from head to toe.
Holy shit.
We devour each other, mouths opening, tongues intertwining, exploring, probing, seeking. My arms wrap around his strapping shoulders, taut muscles evident under his button-down. The hungry sounds emanating from us only fuel the fire, and I’m grateful this man has a sure grip because my knees gave out five minutes ago.
Eager to see and touch every inch of him, I reach between us and fumble to unbutton this infernal barrier called a shirt. Equally impatient, he takes over, whipping it off and chucking it onto a nearby chair. How I love watching those muscles flex. My gaze traces his broad shoulders, spectacular build, manly chest hair, and that tapered V diving into his jeans. Our lips collide again, hungry and exploratory. My hands rove greedily across his contoured planes. His huge hands chart a path down my back to my ass. His fingers travel the length of my skirt, then he hikes the material and his palms cup my cheeks.
His claiming grip, even through my sheer nylons, further soaks my lace underwear. Those thick fingers—which were impossible to miss at the bar—knead my flesh, and goddamn if I’m not ready to sell my soul to have one of them inside me right now. His hands traverse upwards, untucking my blouse before diving underneath. His calluses scratch gently against my naked skin in the most deliciously welcome way.
Lumberjack or not, this is a man who works with his hands, and something about that turns me on even more.
He carefully lifts the blouse over my head, my nipples hardening further at the way he devours me with his eyes. My stomach dips dramatically…and I’m a trembling, needy mess. His fingers graze over my breasts, ensconced in an ivory bra, and I moan. Loudly. Heat courses through my blood, the fire blazing out of control now.
I need this.I needhim. Rightfully interpreting my signals, he deftly unclasps my bra, which falls to my feet.
“Goddamn, you’re gorgeous,” he murmurs before lowering to suck one of my nipples. Thenhegroans, a sexy vibration that rocks me to my core.
