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She giggled, and he proceeded to relieve her of her shoes and socks before he hurried to strip off her jeans and panties.
The man was in a hurry, and so was she. She wanted him inside her, and she wanted him now.
Haylee lay naked on the bed, smiling up at him as he slid on a condom.
He looked down at her with hunger in his brilliant blue eyes.
She crooked her finger at him. “Come here, big boy.”
With a feral sound, he moved between her thighs, his eyes blazing with need. He grasped his erection and placed it against the entrance to her core.
His ferocity was contagious. She raised her hips. “Now, Tyson. Don’t make me wait.”
He thrust his cock deep, and she cried out at the feel of his thickness and fullness. He moved in and out, his breathing hard, droplets of sweat from his hair landing on her chest.
Her thoughts seemed to spin out of control as she charged closer to an orgasm. Closer, closer yet.
Tyson hooked his arms beneath her knees, driving even deeper.
She screamed as she hit her climax, her body vibrating, her core clamping down on his cock.
He thrust a few more times then shouted even louder than before.
Chest rising and falling like a racehorse, he pulled out and ditched the condom. He drew her into his arms and held her close.
“I love you, Haylee.” He sounded sated and exhausted.
She smiled, feeling herself drift away. “I love you.”
16
Haylee sat in front of her latest painting in the room she used as an art studio in the home she shared with her sisters. She loved the scent of paint and wet canvas that filled the small room.
She dabbed at the canvas with her paintbrush, putting the last bit of shading on a cholla cactus. The sky was the vivid blue of a sunny Arizona afternoon, the ground a reddish-brown, with the majestic Huachuca Mountains in the distance.
“There. I think that’s it.” She set the brush on the palette and studied the work of art critically. “Not bad.” She had spent time on the nuances all morning and was finally satisfied with the result.
A knock on the door caught her attention, and she called over her shoulder, “Come on in.”
She kept her gaze on the painting, searching for anything that might need touching up. No work of art was perfect, and that was part of the beauty of it.
Large arms wrapped around her shoulders, and she felt the warmth of Tyson’s embrace and breathed in his scent of soap, shampoo, and man. “Hello, gorgeous,” he murmured.
“I’m glad you’re here.” She turned on her stool and tipped her head back for a kiss, and he made good on it. “I’m finished, and it’s ready to go to the gallery.”
Eleven months had passed since her first showing, and it had been almost nine months since the bank robbery.
He smiled down at her. “I’m kidnapping you to celebrate.”
She laughed. “Is it kidnapping if I’m a willing participant?”
“You have paint on your nose.” He grinned as he studied her face. “And on your cheek.”
“I’m sure I have it everywhere.” She slid off the stool, and he stepped back as she removed her pink smock, decorated with colorful paint smears. “It would be all over my clothes if I didn’t use this thing.”
They walked toward the door, and she hung the smock on a brass hook near the frame. “Where are we going?”
“My place.” He followed her down the hall and to her bedroom. “I’ve got takeout from Ricardo’s in the truck in an insulated bag.”
