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Until it met a part of him already at attention. “Looking for trouble, hot stuff?” His voice was raspy, the sound of a man in need of water.
“Always. Want some water?”
“I’d kill for it.”
“Don’t move.”
She threw back the sheet and got off the bed. If memory served, there was a gallon jug of water in the refrigerator. Oakley padded to the kitchen and opened the refrigerator door. Sure, enough there was it.
Not bothering to find a glass, she unscrewed the top, turned the bottle up to her mouth as she drank, bumped the door with her hip to close it, and retraced her steps back to the bedroom.
Early morning light filtered in through the thin curtain over the window, the fabric lifting and falling in the slight breeze that wafter in. Light fell across the bed, causing her to stop and look.
Gunner didn’t think of himself as an appealing man, even though she knew from talking with Grady and Riggs that he was never without female companionship. That didn’t surprise her. He wasn’t conceited and neverput on airs of being tough or mean or anything. He was genuine, and humble.
And sexy as homemade sin.
She’d seen few men who could compare when it came to physique. He wasn’t a fat guy with muscle, or a gym rat with muscle. He was the human equivalent of a war horse, all muscle and heart.
He made her heartbeat faster, and her thoughts turn to all the ways he delivered pleasure. Even now, she could feel the ghost of sensation on her skin of his callused hands, the soft scape as he explored her body, teasing and arousing.
“Looking for trouble?” he asked.
“Always.” She sat beside him and offered him the jug of water.
He accepted, turned it up and downed almost a third of it before setting it on the nightstand. “Well, you know, my grandmama always did call me trouble so…”
The squeak that came out of her mouth shocked her when he grabbed her, pulled her down, and then over onto her back in one move. “God, you’re beautiful,” he said as he leaned on one arm and looked down at her.
“You had me at hello, big guy.”
“I mean it,” there was no jest in his voice. “You’re beautiful, like God decided to take the best traits from two different races and combine them into one person.”
No one had ever complemented her like that, and she wasn't sure how to react. “You’re so full of surprises, Gunner. Why the hell are you walking around single?”
“I could ask you the same.”
She nodded and raised one hand to trace along the side of his face. “But why ruin a perfectly good morning?I can think of a lot of better ways to spend our time than hearing about all my personality defects.”
“Defects?”
She nodded in mock seriousness, eager to get beyond this moment. Oakley didn’t know that she’d ever feel comfortable speaking her truth to anyone. She couldn’t imagine that life would bless her enough to deliver her someone who would listen and not condemn her. She sure couldn’t feel that way, so if she condemned herself, why would anyone else feel different?
“I’m a terrible cook, I hate housework, can’t sew or knit, don’t know the first thing about gardening and despise shopping.”
“Dear God, you really are defective,” he quipped, then added, “or perfect.”
She would have protested that last compliment, but he rolled over on her, holding himself on his forearms. “I’ll go with perfect,” he said just before he kissed her.
Oakley didn’t have the mental power to think of anything other than this moment. His lips were soft but demanding, and she gladly responded. Before the kiss ended, her legs were wound around his waist.
She started to reach between them to guide him inside her, but he took hold of her hands, pulled them up over her head, and held her pinned to the bed. “Not this time, hot stuff. This time it’s my turn to take.”
Something about the way he said it flipped a switch, making her instantly wet. “Then do it.”
There was no need for further encouragement. She took and delighted in what he gave, but felt a stir of unease. Something tugged at her, something she wanted to ignore. She was close to losing control, he was steering her where he wanted her to go, and she feltthe strength to resist wane. She couldn’t let that happen. Surrendering wasn’t in her nature.
“Let go, baby.” His whisper seemed in answer to her fear. “Let me have you.”
