Page 28 of Drifter’s Heart

I grin, sliding my hand through her hair to cup the back of her head. “You mean what you said before, or was that just another reason to get into my pants?”

Winnie raises both eyebrows. “These pants?” She grabs the front of my pink board shorts and tugs at the string. “Do these even count as pants?”

“Hey. They do the job,” I protest, warmth growing in my chest. Christ, I’m tumbling for her, unable to think clearly. “You want⁠—”

Her hands are on the hem of my flower-print shirt, yanking at the buttons. “How much do you hate this thing?”

“I mean, on a scale of one to⁠—”

Buttons scatter her cramped kitchen space, skittering under benches and chairs. I’ll never find them all and give it up as not worth doing in an instant.

“Good. ’Cause I fucking hate it.”

I snort. “All you had to do was ask.” I shed the offensive material, letting it drop to her kitchen floor. “Anything else you need?” She’s warm in my arms when I slide my hands beneath her tank top, running my hands up her ribs. The groan I stifled once before breaks free. “The amount of nights I’ve fantasized about having you…”

“Why do you take so long for everything, you stubborn, stubborn man?” Winnie leans all the way forward so I have to catch her, and jumps.

Literally.

“Whoa, girl. Too fast, huh?” I pull her in close, nestling the warmth of her against the hardness of me. Her soft gasp does all the right sorts of things for my blood flow. “If we keep going like this, I’ll end up fucking you right here and that’s⁠—”

“What’s wrong with kitchen sex?” Winnie interrupts me.

“—not what I had in mind for our first time together,” I say firmly. Her body is warm and soft in my hands, but also taut and strong. I squeezed her glutes, earning myself the perfect moan from her. “Sure, we can fuck here and I can give you a memory that will never let you look at your kitchen bench the same way ever again⁠—”

Winnie’s next moan splices desire through me. I don’t wait for her answer; otherwise we’ll never leave this room until we’re done and I’ll carry out the exact scenario I’ve just described to her.

Later, beautiful.

I store the information away for another time and tuck her ankles behind my hips, capturing her mouth with mine as I walk us back through her house.

“Bedroom or sofa?” I manage against her mouth.

Her tongue flicks against mine and blood surges south. I stumble into a doorframe, then a wall, finding us in a still semi-darkened hall. Jesus, what time is it? I decide I don’t care or need an answer, taking a turn into the next room and stumbling into Winnie’s bedroom.

Fucking fluke.

I don’t argue, cupping her head and pushing my tongue between her lips until she shivers in my arms. Slowly Winnie relaxes, a fraction of tension easing away from her smaller frame at a time. Her grip releases on me as I tip her back onto her bed, letting me peel her top up, though I keep kissing her afterward. Even when she tugs impatiently at my shorts, I clasp our hands together and guide them over her head, interlinking our fingers. Soft breaths come fast, giving away her need, and it’s beautiful.

Her frustrated sounds grow louder as I ease my weight over her body, pressing her thighs apart with my knees.

“Slow, Winnie. I’m not rushing this with you.” Her lips press to mine, swollen and sweet when I mutter the words against her flesh.

She mumbles something in reply, but I claim her mouth again, cutting her words off. We’ve spoken enough, and now she’s mine until we’re done. Heat soaks the front of my shorts as I grind against her, rubbing myself on the join between her thighs until she arches for me. It doesn’t take long before she’s panting into my mouth. We’re as randy as a pair of hormone-ridden teens, and about as smart.

I tear my mouth from hers, breaking my previous vow of silence. “Condoms, Winnie. Or this stops here.”

“Huh?” Winnie surfaces from our kisses, her gaze heavy-lidded and unfocused. “Maybe my purse?”

My jaw tightens as I lean over the edge of the bed and hook her purse with a finger, levering toward her. “Find what you need,” I grate out. “And later we’re gonna have a talk about why those will stay in your home and not your handbag.”

She flutters her lashes at me, extracting a foil pack, and glides a hand straight down my abs, removing my ability to breathe. “What about picnic dates? Or moonlit hikes?” Her hand closes around my cock through my shorts and she squeezes me firmly.

“Jesus, fuck,” I swear, shoving my pants down. I bat her hand away. “You want me to fuck you on a moonlit picnic date, beautiful?”

She nods, her eyes glowing. “Yep.”

“Done.” I pin her hands to her sides and slide down her body, catching her sleep shorts in my teeth and tugging them down. Winnie wiggles in her maddening way, and the scrap of material slides over her hips.