Page 84 of Summer Heat
She’d been well and thoroughly friend-zoned by her own bumbling stupidity.
But his expression didn’t glint with remorse. Instead his eyes were dark with lust—and anticipation. “Stay,” he murmured, his voice gruff.
Please yes, her body answered, but she wasn’t ready to give in. His rejection the last time had hurt, even if she’d known he had his reasons. She wanted to see him suffer… just a little bit. “Stay for what?” she asked, daring him, taunting.
He met her challenge with one of his own. “Let me lick you dry. I bet you’re wet for me right now. I want to taste you while my mouth is still sweet from the pie. I want to drink you down for dessert.”
Chapter Eight
Her eyes were wide, cheeks flushed. Her breath caught. Because he’d shocked her. Maybe it was too much, too fast. They’d only kissed and touched—so briefly. But then he thought about the years he’d spent waiting for her, and he knew it couldn’t happen quick enough. He’d never have her fast enough, deep enough.
It wasn’t only loyalty that had sent him running from Austin after he’d walked in on her and Chris. It wasn’t only jealousy. It was also the bone-deep satisfaction he’d felt at seeing her on her knees—even if he’d wanted her in front of him instead.
He wanted her on her knees, mouth hugging his cock. He wanted her eyes focused on him. He wanted her begging and desperate and needy. Imagining her that way had kept him up countless nights, tugging relentlessly, roughly at his dick as if that could somehow compare.
But this was Lia. Sweet, smart, bold Lia who probably didn’t want him pushing her around during sex.
Unless she did. “Please,” she whispered, and he almost came in his boxer briefs.
He shoved the food aside—the pie too—to make room for her. “Step out of those jeans for me, sweetheart. I want to see those long legs and creamy skin.”
He was quiet most of the time. Probably soft spoken for an army grunt. But he liked to be loud in bed. And rude and demanding. Not everyone liked it, but he couldn’t change himself.
Not even for her.
Her breathing sped up. Her eyes turned glassy, but she stood and obeyed him without question. He knew he’d surprised her, but so far she’d reacted perfectly to him, as if he’d hummed a tune and discovered her following behind. The Pied Piper, just for her, and he’d lead them both underwater.
When her legs were bare, he fought the urge to go onto his knees, to press his open mouth to her calves and kiss her feet.
There’d be time enough for that later.
“Get your ass on the table,” he said hoarsely.
“Ethan?” Her voice wavered. Had he gone too far? Not that it mattered if he had. They were already here, past the edge and falling free.
He softened his voice. “It’s okay, baby. Just scoot that pretty ass on the table. I want your pussy where I can see it.” He kept going when she complied, wanting to reward her. “You want me to see your pussy, don’t you? So soft and pink. You want me to kiss you there.”
She settled on the table, her legs pressed together, modesty clinging to her half-naked body in shreds. “It’s so bright,” she muttered, eyes cast down.
He never wanted her embarrassed with him. He would have turned off the light to spare her, but the whole cabin was filled with shadows, the day’s last light streaming through the windows. And his sympathy wasn’t quite strong enough to make him leave her alone.
“I want to see all of you,” he said, implacable. “Every shadow. Every part. I’m going to spread your legs and press my face in between. There isn’t a part of you I won’t see or touch or lick, understand? All you can do is take it.”
Just like that, it didn’t matter. Didn’t matter that she had been with his best friend. He’d take the risk that Chris would speak to him again—someday. This wasn’t that future, and it wasn’t their shared past. This was now, when he pressed the heel of his palm to his dick to appease the ache. It would be a long time before he got relief, and he intended to make Lia pay during every minute of it.
If she was willing. “Nod if you understand.”
* * *
Lia stared at the man and tried to focus. He wanted her to be at his mercy. He wanted her to give herself over to him and hope he would be kind. He wanted to really make sure she wanted this—and she couldn’t think of anything sweeter.
She nodded.
He slid one heavy palm between her knees and spread them. Cool air rushed over her sex, and she gasped. He was going to take her—finally.
She stopped hoping he would be kind about it. She wanted him raw instead—feral, and the rough nudge of his thighs between hers told her she’d get just that.
Except she didn’t. Instead he touched her softly, trailing blunt fingertips across her collarbone, a course brush of calluses over her arms. Feeling her, teasing her, tracing the same path his eyes had done when he’d walked in on her and Chris.
