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His observation brought forth another laugh. “I’m staring at the cause.”
With her hand tucked securely in his, he led her toward the door. “You’re in luck, Bluelick, ’cause I’m also the cure.
…
“I like the shoes.”
Melody pulled her attention from the familiar scenery whipping past the passenger window of Josh’s Yukon. “What?”
“Your shoes. I like those…whatever you call the window-things in the front…and the straps around your ankles.”
She glanced down at her peep-toed blue pumps and smiled. “They’re new.”
“Did you buy them knowing I’d take one look and want to prop your feet on my shoulders and fuck you while I bit through each ankle strap?”
Mercy. She lowered the window several inches and let the breeze blow over her face. “I hoped for something along those lines.”
“You’ll get your wish in about five minutes.”
His take-no-prisoners tone sent a thrill through her system. Crude and domineering? Maybe, but the blatantly sexual nature of his attention made her feel sexy. Desired. No, he wasn’t going to romance her with poetry or fancy dinners. This wasn’t about romance. He wanted her, plain and simple. And he seemed to draw the same hunger from her. Learning she could experience and inspire this much lust had been a surprise and a relief. Realizing they could sustain it beyond a night or two was an out-and-out revelation.
But sustain they did. Electricity crackled between them whenever they got within a mile of each other, and showed no signs of subsiding. How in God’s name had she existed without it for so long?
She’d feared there was something wrong with her, that’s how. Now she knew different. She had needs, powerful needs, and there was no stuffing that knowledge back in the box and pretending otherwise. She didn’t want to. Didn’t want to hide her desires or temper them into something less fierce. With Josh she felt free to explore that side of herself. He’d never back away. He’d take everything she had, and demand more.
“Where are we going?” Not that she cared.
“My house.”
She turned to look at him. Her expression must have conveyed her surprise, because he added, “I want you in my bed, Bluelick. You got a problem with that?”
“No. But I have a bed, too, and my place is closer…” She’d never set foot in his house, but she’d heard early on he’d rented a cabin on the outskirts of town, backed up against the mountains.
“I didn’t say I want you in a bed. I said I want you in my bed.”
There went the electricity again, zinging straight to all her vulnerable places, including a big, frighteningly soft one near the center of her chest. Casual, she reminded herself, and lowered her eyes. That’s when she noticed exactly how much he wanted her in his bed. “Is it hard to wait?”
He grunted. “I’ll manage.”
“Maybe I could”—she reached out and placed her hand high on his thigh, gratified when thick muscles bunched under her palm—“take the edge off?”
“What are you doing?”
She slid her hand down between his legs and nudged his balls. “What does it feel like I’m doing?”
“If you don’t cut that out right now, there’s going to be hell to pay.”
She ran her fingers over the bulge in his jeans. “What will you do, punish me?”
“Goddammit.” He gripped the steering wheel and accelerated.
She stroked the hard ridge, leisurely, and watched a muscle clench in his jaw.
“Damn right I will, right here in the cab of my truck.”
“I thought you wanted me in your bed.”
“There, too. Hang on.”
