Page 50 of Tennessee Trouble

Oohhhhh, fuuuuuck…

My insides light up like the Fourth of July. Just the thought of being naked and laid out for him to see me—to do whatever he wants to me—is too much. My pussy clenches and I can feel my own wetness. And he hasn’t done anything but tell me to take my clothes off.

So that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Slowly, purposefully, I reach for the hem of my tee, meeting Brandt’s gaze. His eyes are wild, full of fire, giving me the confidence I need. I lift my shirt over my head, maintaining as much eye contact as I can. The fire flickers, letting me know I have all his attention.

Moving to my waistband, I undo my jeans, wiggling them over my hips, making a show of it as I lower them. Once I’m in nothing but my bra and panties, I lick my lips, heat flushing my skin. Brandt breaks our eye contact, skimming me up and down, sucking in a harsh breath.

My skin heats even more from the approval, making my own confidence start to overflow. He likes what he sees, so I’m going to give him more. Lots more.

“Lindee, hurry…” he growls.

“Oh, you don’t like watching me?” I tease.

“I like it,” he says, voice rough and full of gravel. “Too much.”

Well then…

Unhooking my bra, I slide it down my arms, twirling it around a finger as I hold it out and drop it to the ground. Another growl cuts through the air, and I watch as Brandt grips the bottle he’s still holding even tighter, looking like he’s about to lose control.

Over me.

Fuck, yes.

“Panties, now,” he demands.

“I’ll get there…” I bat my eyelashes, trying to look as sweet and innocent as possible.

“Now…”

“So demanding…” I smirk, throwing him a wink.

Looping my thumbs under the lace, I work the fabric down my legs, taking my time. I spin as I stand back up, shaking my ass.

Smack!

Sharp heat hits my backside, radiating through my skin. I gasp, both at the shock and pleasure of it, my heart jumping. Fuck…that was amazing.

I throw a look over my shoulder, not sure what I expect to find. Sure enough, there’s Brandt, eyes dark and lusty, waggling his eyebrows, looking borderline satisfied. He should be, because that’s a move that will get him everything he wants. Eventually. Because I might drag the moment out to earn myself more of that.

“Onto the bed.”

I spin back around, climbing onto the bed. Lying back, I’m thankful I didn’t make the bed, the crumpled duvet acting as the perfect pillow, the soft cotton hugging me as I get comfortable.

Putting a knee on the bed, Brandt spreads my legs. Cool air hits my core, making my pussy clench in anticipation. I’m open and exposed, fully on display. In the back of my mind, there is a part of me that thinks I should be self-conscious. That I should be worried about what he thinks. But another part, a bigger part, feel comfortable and safe. And turned the fuck on.

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous…” he mutters, once again dragging his eyes up and down my body.

His eyes stop and his brow furrows for a second. Dropping the bottle on the bed, he runs his hand up my side, stopping right at my underboob. At my tattoo.

Fingertips trace along the ink, tickling me. I follow along with him, around each little branch and hexagon, knowing exactly which element he’s following—working his way through the equation.

“The carbon skeleton of whiskey…” he whispers, pressing a kiss to the tattoo.

“Specifically Tennessee Trouble,” I reply, my inner nerd unable to hold back.

“Is that this?” He skims along the branch that curves under my breast toward my sternum. “The tri hydrogen carbon with a star?”