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She studied the line of his neck, remembering how it felt to press her lips against his pounding pulse. The heat of his skin. She wanted the scrape of his beard against her jaw, on her neck, running down her body.
His gaze tracked down her like he knew what she was thinking. Her breath caught, and his eyes flared.
Erin cleared her throat, breaking the spell. “No, you’re not interrupting. We’re leaving.” She and Sydney moved past Taran onto the porch. “Let me know which haint,” she reminded Taran as they both waved.
“Come in,” Taran said.
Corey walked into her living room and stood awkwardly in the center. His plain white T-shirt pulled tight across his broad shoulders, not hiding the tension in his stance. Every time Taran had seen Corey step into her house, it had been with the firm assurance of a man who thought he belonged. But at the moment, he looked like he was waiting to be kicked out.
“I didn’t mean to ruin your girls’ night.” He tipped his head to the three half-full glasses of wine next to the table.
“They were leaving anyway. Only so much Gullah and ghost talk before Sydney decides she’s out,” Taran said, and Corey turned his focus to her.
“Ghosts?” he asked.
“Erin thinks blue porches will scare the ghosts away,” she said.
He opened his mouth and shut it twice before she laughed.
“Are you messing with me?” He stepped closer. His cologne swamped her senses, and although they were at least a foot apart, she swore she could feel the heat radiating off his body.
“Always,” she assured, but her voice came out in a breathy whisper.
He swallowed, his stare dropping to her mouth and then lower to the scoop of her fitted cropped shirt. He lifted his hand and brushed his thumb across the bare skin above her cutoffs. Goosebumps broke out across her hips and a shiver racked her body as an ache pounded low inside her.
“Tillerson told me your article is finished.” His deep voice vibrated through her as his fingers finally settled on her waist, biting into her skin.
She nodded.
“Your next story won’t be a Metro.” His hot grip on her tightened.
Wait—what? Her eyes narrowed, and she reached up to push him away. But he didn’t give an inch as she pushed her palms into him. Her body might be ready to melt into a puddle at his feet, but did he think he could tell her what to do?
“Who do you think you are—”
Before she could get more words out, his free hand covered her mouth, and he spun her, pressing her back firmly into the wall.
“I know I’m the man who’s about to make you come so hard you won’t be able to walk,” he growled. His erection rested firmly against her hip.
She gasped as desire swamped her system. Her hands fisted his T-shirt, no longer pushing him away. This man could turn her inside out. He ran his hand along her jaw, cupping the back of her neck. Every cell in her body electrified as he lowered his forehead, resting it against hers. Hot breath danced around her face. Her body clenched.
“Only things that will stop me: if doing this puts your professional credibility in jeopardy or”—his fingers tangled in her hair as he yanked it tightly in his fist, forcing her gaze up to his eyes. Genuine concern showed in his expression, which only made her want him more—“you tell me to stop.”
His words vibrated off her lips less than an inch from his. But as forceful as he was, the ball was in her court. He wasn’t moving closer. His eyes begged her to close the distance. To give in to him. “Give me words, shortstop.”
“Not a Metro,” she whispered and wrapped her arms around his neck, closing the distance to press her mouth against his.
Immediately, he took control of the kiss. He groaned as his tongue invaded her mouth, and the raspy echo pounded through her, settling between her legs. Once again, the rough scrape of his beard grazed against her skin. His thick thigh forced her knees apart, demanding room for him. The arm around her back pulled hard, settling her against him, slowly dragging her up against his leg. The denim of his jeans rubbed torturously but didn’t give her nearly enough friction. She arched harder against him. His mouth didn’t leave hers, and every swipe of his tongue sent a new thrill through her. She rolled her hips against his thigh and whimpered at the delicious burst of lust the movement elicited.
“Fuck, shorty, you’re killing me.” His breathing was hard. He swept his hand down her neck, over her shoulder, to her breast. His firm pinch of her nipple caused her to buck harder against him. “Exactly why no bra is so hot.” He pinched again, and the prick of pain rocketed through her.
Corey dropped his head again. This time, his mouth moved along the skin of her neck, kissing her throat, just behind her ear. Her head fell back, knocking into the wall.
“Corey,” she moaned.
“I need to touch you.” His eyes were liquid caramel and milk chocolate desire, causing the ache inside her to strengthen.
“Now,” she begged.
