Page 92 of Trick or Tease

“You scared me half to death,” I said, but I was already melting back against him, my body responding instantly to his touch.

“Sorry,” he murmured, his lips brushing just below my ear. “I couldn’t resist. You looked so focused over here, and I’ve been wanting to get my hands on you since I saw you drive up.”

His arms tightened around me. I could feel the solid warmth of his chest against my back. God, the man felt good. Like he was made to fit against me perfectly. If I could strap myself to him and just hang on him all day, I would. I loved the feeling of being in his arms.

“How are you feeling today?” he asked, his voice dropping to that low, intimate tone that made my knees weak. “Are you sore?”

Heat flooded my cheeks as memories of last night came rushing back. The hard floor of the old house, his hands gripping my hips, the delicious ache that had followed me into sleep and greeted me when I woke up this morning.

“Yes,” I admitted, turning in his arms to face him. “And I love it.”

His eyes darkened immediately, that familiar hunger flickering to life. “Good,” he said roughly, his hands sliding down to rest on my lower back. “I like knowing you can feel where I’ve been.”

Before I could respond, his mouth was on mine, desperate and demanding. I kissed him back just as eagerly, my hands sliding down his back. He tasted like Marge’s homemade honey mustard and something uniquely him that I was already addicted to.

His tongue swept across my lips and I opened for him with a soft moan. One of his hands tangled in my hair while the other pressed against the small of my back, pulling me closer until there wasn’t an inch of space between us.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” he whispered against my lips between kisses. “About last night. About how you felt in my arms.”

My head spun from the intensity of his touch. The way he was looking at me like I was the only thing that mattered in the world had my heart doing flips that I wasn’t entirely sure was healthy.

He kissed me again, slower this time but no less thorough, like he was trying to memorize the taste of me. When we finally broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

“We should probably get back to work,” I said reluctantly, though I made no move to step away from him.

“Probably,” he agreed, but his hands stayed exactly where they were, his thumbs tracing small circles on my back through my shirt. “In a minute.”

I smiled and grabbed his shoulders. He winced and then I remembered. “I guess I should ask if you’re sore.”

He flashed a cocky grin. “I’m wearing my marks with pride. Every time one of those scratches pulls, it makes me hard. I think about being inside you when you made those marks.”

His dirty talk had me practically panting. The clean, buttoned-up lawyer had quite a mouth on him, literally and figuratively.

“We have to get to work,” I groaned. “I do not want to get busted rolling in the hay.”

He laughed and slapped my ass. “Fine but just know I’m going to be thinking about you all night. Your taste. Your moans. That tight⁠—”

“Garrett!”

He chuckled and stepped back, winking at me before he walked out of the barn.

34

GARRETT

Iwalked over to where Billy and a few other guys were tinkering with one of the trebuchets, trying to shake off the lingering effects of having Sabrina in my arms. The woman was going to be the death of me. I couldn’t think straight when she was around.

“Hey, city boy,” Tyler called out as I approached. “Think you can redeem yourself from the disaster the other day? Or should I show you how it’s done again?”

I grimaced, remembering my pathetic performance during our first punkin’ chunkin’ attempt. I’d managed to launch exactly one pumpkin about fifteen feet before it crashed into the dirt. The local guys had good-naturedly ribbed me about it for the rest of the afternoon—and every day since.

“What’s wrong with this thing?” I asked, examining the mechanism they’d been adjusting.

“Nothing now,” Billy said, wiping grease off his hands. “We just needed to recalibrate the counterweight. Want to give it a shot?”

I looked at the freshly repaired trebuchet, then at the row of mummy targets they’d set up about fifty yards away. What the hell. I’d already embarrassed myself once. How much worse could it get?

“Sure,” I said, grabbing a medium-sized pumpkin from the pile. “But this time I’m actually aiming.”