Page 32 of Wild Embers
Blake leans across the center console, lowering her voice to a tone that makes my inner caveman pound on his chest. “You going to sweep me off my feet?”
This woman is going to be my undoing.
“Stay right there.” I step out into the crisp night air, circle around the truck, and open her door. Before she has a chance to protest, I slip one arm behind her knees and the other around her back.
She lets out a surprised laugh as I lift her into my arms. “You weren’t joking.”
“Never.”
Her arms slide around my neck, and she looks at me with that same bright smile she’s worn all evening.
The porch light catches the snowflakes tangled in her hair, making them sparkle like tiny stars.
I don’t think I've ever seen anything more beautiful.
The walk to the front door feels like an eternity as Blake’s mouth moves up and down the column of my neck.
Sucking, kissing, licking, biting.
I’m barely inside the door and kick it closed when her mouth reaches my ear. “I need you now,” she pants.
I’m frozen in the entry as a groan rumbles through my chest. “I’m trying to be a gentleman and at least get you to my bed before I dirty you up.”
Blake hops down from my arms, the look in her eye almost has me nervous. She steps backward, kicking off her shoes one at a time. “I didn’t ask for the gentleman tonight.”
Her hands go to the top of her pants and push them down her legs—her legs, sexy legs. My eyes travel her body, starting at her toes and up the inside of her leg. I stop at the juncture of her thighs, her core barely covered by a small strip of black fabric.
The hardness in my jeans throbs.
I follow her lead, slipping off my boots.
“I went home with the cowboy.” Blake reaches for the hem of her top, ripping it over her head and revealing a heathered gray bra. “Give me thevaquero.”
She spins on her heel, dashing for the living room, and I get the perfect view of her ass. That thin black thong slips between her round cheeks.
“Fuck me.” I bite my fist to keep myself in check.
This is Blake.
Blake Jennings.
She’s not just any other hook-up.
Despite my self-control, I find myself chasing after her, unbuttoning my jeans as I go.
She stops in the middle of the living room, spinning to face me. Her eyes widen, not expecting me to be right on her tail.
I pick her up, stride to the couch, and sit, placing her on my lap.
Her legs automatically fall to either side of my thighs, straddling me.
Blake’s hands go to the front of my shirt, unfastening the buttons. “Now what?” Once she’s done, she pushes the flannel fabric down my arms, running her hands over my chest.
Removing my hat, I place it on her head. “Now, I take you for a ride.”
She whimpers. I doubt she’s aware that she’s rubbing her center all over the front of my pants.
I slip my hand under the fabric of her thong at her hip and yank. I gather her ruined panties and stuff them in my pocket.
