He grasped her hands in one of his and raised them over her head.
She was pinned to the hood of his car by his big body and throbbing cock. Everything inside her seemed to exhale. This was where she was supposed to be.
She intentionally squeezed her inner muscles.
Vincent swore and narrowed his gaze. Then one corner of his mouth kicked up in a lopsided smile. “Think you’re tough, do you?”
She licked her lips. “Tough enough to take you,” she teased. God, she hadn’t had fun during sex in years. Most men were serious and focused. Either that or they were quick and unemotional. Vincent had always teased her, even as he’d driven her to heights of sexual pleasure. Her first lover had been her best.
“We’ll see about that.” Keeping her hands pinned above her head, he began to move. She wrapped her legs around his waist, driving him even deeper. He kept his movements slow and easy at first, moving so his entire body stroked over hers. His heavy chest rubbed her nipples, turning them into taut nubs. He ground his pelvis against hers, stimulating her clit.
She couldn’t touch him, not with her hands manacled in one of his. All she could do was rock her hips slightly. Vincent was in total control.
She found that hot and liberating. All she had to do was lie there and bask in the sensual pleasure.
He began to move faster. When he thrust inward, he hit the sweet spot inside her channel. She moaned and tightened her legs around him.
Vincent lost it. He began hammering into her, grinding his pelvis against hers, faster and faster until she thought she’d lose her mind. She cried out, begging him to hurry. She’d already come once, but it was nothing compared to the storm building inside her.
She felt his cock swell inside her, the hot rush as he came. He yelled her name and drove deep again and again. Her pussy clutched him hard, heat flashed through her, and passion exploded.
Every cell in her body seemed to be pulled apart, but Vincent anchored her through the sensual storm. He finally collapsed on top of her, but angled his torso slightly to the side so she wasn’t crushed. His cock was still inside her. She found it oddly comforting.
He released her arms, and she lowered them, running her hands over his damp shoulders. They were both breathing hard. Her heart hammered against her chest. She was tired but strangely energized too.
Sex with Vincent was even better than she remembered.
Finally, Vincent raised his head, his green eyes serious. He pushed himself upright. She made a small sound of dismay when he slipped out of her body. He pulled up his pants and tucked himself away.
She quickly shoved down her skirt and fumbled for the top of her dress.
Vincent stopped her. “Don’t.”
Now that the passion was passing, she felt self-conscious. What had she done? She’d had sex with her ex-boyfriend within minutes of seeing him again. Even though she knew it wasn’t smart, she couldn’t regret it.
She ignored him and pulled the top of her dress back into place and buttoned it. “I hope we didn’t scratch the car.” It was a stupid thing to say, but she was suddenly nervous.
“Screw the car.”
That shocked her. Vincent had always been particular about the car, even back when it had been a junker, long before he’d restored it. Then her sense of humor surged to the fore. “I think you already screwed me on the car.”
He gave a sharp bark of laughter then scooped her into his arms.
“My shoes. My underwear,” she protested. Two scraps of red lace lay on the concrete floor, and her shoes were partly under the Charger.
“They’re not going anywhere.”
“My purse.” It was on the floor by the door.
“It’s safe,” he promised.
She didn’t know whether she should laugh or cry at his heavy-handedness. She decided to relax and enjoy the ride. He carried her through the building to a door at the back. He dug a set of keys out of his pocket and unlocked it, revealing a small foyer and a set of stairs. He started up, never once losing his hold on her.
She was curious about his home. Esme wasn’t expecting much but was surprised when he unlocked and opened the door. His home was bright and spacious, the living space and kitchen area open and modern. A big-screen television and a dark brown sofa dominated the living room. She caught a glimpse of stone countertops, hardwood floors, and white Shaker cabinets before he took her down a short hallway and into the bedroom.
He sat on the king-size bed with her still locked in his arms. He held her against his chest and buried his face in the curve of her neck. “This isn’t a one-time thing,” he told her.
She tensed. “It’s not?”
He raised his head and shook it. “No. I’ve spent the last dozen years missing you. I’m not wasting another second.”
Her heart soared, and she threw her arms around him. Then she tossed all caution to the wind. “I love you. I don’t think I ever stopped.
He gave her his familiar heart-stopping smile. “I never stopped loving you either.” He dropped back onto the bed, making her squeal. He turned so they were both on their sides, facing one another. He held his hands in front of her. “They’ll always have grease on them.”
She took his hands in hers and squeezed. “A little grease keeps the world moving.”
He laughed and rolled her onto her back. Then he kissed her.
A sense of rightness, of wellbeing enveloped Esme. She loved and was loved. She’d come home, and this time she planned to stay.
Cabin Fever
Kris Norris
“And here I thought we’d made it through this unfortunate reunion unscathed.”
Juliet Foster froze as Casey’s low voice sounded behind her. She palmed the inn’s main counter for balance then glanced over her shoulder. Irritation creased his brow as he stood in the doorway, arms loaded with firewood. His deep-green gaze bored right through her before he shifted his attention to the fireplace on the far side of the room.
He angled toward it, his boots barely making a sound on the old wooden floors. “I realize this place is a home of sorts for you, but… Your department’s retreat is over. You really should leave before darkness falls. That road’s a bitch once the sun sets.”
Anger mixed with pain at his disconnected tone—as if they hadn’t spent three years of their lives together. In the eighteen months since he’d walked away, she still hadn’t gotten close to being over him—the telltale kick of her pulse and the sudden flush of her skin, case in point—even if he’d moved on. Though, nothing had shocked her more than walking through Bradbury Inn’s front door and discovering their new caretaker was her ex-fiancé, Casey Monroe.
Juliet firmed her stance, pushing the riot of butterflies in her stomach as far into her boots as possible. “Trust me. The last thing I want is to spend more time…here.”
She cringed at the slight crack in her voice, the lie bitter on her tongue. Truth was, she hadn’t really felt as if she belonged since she’d left Fulton Springs behind and moved to Seattle, where she’d worked her way onto the homicide squad. She’d always pictured herself as more of a small-town sheriff. Someone who knew everyone and the community. Somewhere that felt like home instead of leaving her feeling like an outsider looking in.
A voice inside her head whispered that her problem wasn’t the city, or the position that wouldn’t ever feel right—it was losing Casey.
Losing the best piece of her.
She fisted her hand, using the slight bite of her nails against her palm for strength. “I just want to borrow your landline. I can’t get any cell service, and I need to call a tow truck.”
Casey stopped repositioning the logs and turned to face her.
And damn if he wasn’t as stunning as she remembered. Firm, thick muscles bunched beneath the blue cotton, equally large thighs filling out his denim. One strong hand raked through his sandy-brown hair, tousling the messy locks about his forehead. She’d never seen him with anything other than his regulation
crew cut, and she couldn’t help but wonder how those silky strands would feel wrapped around her fingers as he worked his way between her thighs.
The thought settled like a rock in her gut. She’d spent far too many nights fantasizing about loving Casey one last time—only to wake in a cold sweat, a painful longing gnawing at her core. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her desire written across her face.
Lines crinkled around Casey’s eyes before he leaned against the mantel. “A tow truck? Please tell me you didn’t slide off the road? Damn, Jules, I noticed you didn’t have winter tires on your Jeep. Having grown up around here, you should know better than to chance these roads without chains as backup.”
That nickname. No one else had ever called her Jules, though she doubted he’d even realized the slip. And had he really noticed her tires but neglected to say a single word during the three days her unit had been engaged in team-building exercises? Had acted as if they’d never met? Sure, she’d avoided him, too, but…knowing the truth still stung.
She steadied her stance, wincing as pain pulsed through her head. “I didn’t swerve off the road. Give me some credit. I chase bad guys for a living, remember?”
“My mistake, Detective.” He pushed off the mantel. “Unfortunately, I doubt you’ll get anyone to come up here now. That storm’s moving in faster than predicted, which is why I told your lieutenant to leave early. And with the sun setting…roads will be too dangerous to chance.”
“Is that your way of saying I’m stuck here? With you?”
“God forbid.” He sighed. “Come on. We’ll take my truck. I don’t have many tools, but maybe I can get your Jeep running well enough to get you down the mountain in one piece.”
“A wrench and some duct tape aren’t going to fix her.”
He continued toward the door as if he hadn’t heard her, stopping once he’d reached the threshold. “I’m pretty damn handy with a wrench, and there’re a thousand and one uses for duct tape. Bet I can get that junk heap moving.”
“Then you’d best bring a chainsaw, because I doubt even your stubborn determination will move the tree.”
“Tree?”
She blinked against another throb of pain before meeting his gaze. “The one that fell across the road…and my hood. It took me twenty minutes just to wedge open the door. So, if you’ll kindly just call for a tow…or a cab…”
His eyes narrowed before he marched across the room, trapping her between his chest and the counter. He leaned in closer, his breath rustling her collar.
A mix of pine and smoke filled her senses, a hint of cologne weaving through the other aromas.
“A tree fell across your car, and you’re just telling me this, now?”
“What does it matter? Ditch or tree, I still need a tow—”
“You’re lucky you’re in one piece. How far?”
“What?”
“How far did you have to walk?”
“About four miles—”
“Dressed like that? In those boots?”
“What’s wrong with my clothes?”
Casey scoffed as he swept his gaze the length of her. “Seriously, Jules? You’re wearing jeans and some imitation leather boots.”
“You’re wearing jeans, too, and they’re real leather.” She pushed against him, grunting when he didn’t move. “What the hell has gotten into you?”
He inhaled, grabbing her chin then tilting her head. “Is that blood?”
She twisted out of his hold, wanting some much-needed distance. Her traitorous heart quickened in response, and she swayed against the counter when the room dipped. “A few branches broke through the windshield. It’s only a cut.”
”Broke through the windshield?” His nostrils flared as he drew in a few hurried breaths, finally looking down again as he reclaimed his hold on her chin, angling her head to the side. “Blood is caked on your skin, bits of glass are in the laceration, and yet, you think it’s nothing. Shit, you probably have a concussion.”
She tugged against his hand, huffing when he raised his other and palmed her cheek to keep her in place. “I’ve had concussions before. I’m fine. And having been shot, this barely registers as anything more than an annoyance.”
Color rose high on his cheekbones. “You’ve been shot? When? Why the hell didn’t you tell me?”
Shit. Why had she let that slip? “Six months ago, and why would I tell you? You walked out with some bullshit line about needing to find yourself, when all you really needed was to lose me.”
Surprise flashed across his expression, followed by hurt. Casey released his hold then took a substantial step back before grasping her hand. “Come on. We need to clean that wound before it gets infected.”
“But…” She stumbled after him as he tugged her down the hall, obviously heading somewhere specific. “What about the tow truck? You said it yourself. It’s getting late. I need—”
“To not end up with sepsis because you’re too damn stubborn to take care of yourself. You think I haven’t noticed that you’ve lost weight? And you rarely slept these past few days. Saw you wandering around every damn night. What happens when all that insomnia catches up, and you’re staring down the wrong end of a rifle?” He stopped short, spinning then trapping her against the wall. “Is that what happened? Why you got shot?”
“I—”
“Hold that thought. Your damn head is still bleeding, and just the sight of it…”
He didn’t finish as he eased back then continued down the hallway, his hand still holding hers. He pulled her into a large bedroom, stopping beside a winged chair set off to one side. “Sit. I’ll be right back.”
He lowered her into it before striking off across the room, disappearing through another door.
She blinked, wondering how she’d lost control so quickly, when he reappeared carrying a red bag.
He moved over to her, placing the bag on a small side table.
The metal rasp of the zipper made her jump, her brain still playing catch up. She opened her mouth to question him when his fingers returned to her chin.
The tight press of his lips softened. “Try to relax. This might sting, but if I don’t remove the debris, it won’t heal properly.”
A smile lifted one corner of his mouth at her silent acceptance before he focused on the wound. He dabbed something wet along her skin, and she inhaled at the fiery sensation that spread across her forehead.
“Damn, it’s deeper than I thought. You probably should have stitches, but since that’s not really possible, I’ll bandage it as best I can.” He glanced at her. “I’m sorry this hurts.”
“Since when do you care if you hurt me?” She groaned inwardly the moment the words sprang free. She’d always prided herself on her ability to remain impartial, and yet, five minutes alone with him, and she’d cracked.
Casey didn’t answer.
But she sensed his unrest in the way he shifted his feet as he cleaned the cut. An uncomfortable silence fell between them, and she dreaded each minute that ticked by—together but miles apart.
His rough exhale drew her attention.
“That should do, though you’ll probably have quite the bruise by tomorrow.”
“Not my first. Won’t be my last.” She stood, nearly knocking into him when he didn’t give her any additional space. “Thanks. Now that you’re done—”
“Done? Sorry to disappoint you, sweetheart, but that was just the first step.”
“Say what?”
“A tree fell across your damn Jeep. God knows if you’re hurt beyond that crater on your forehead.”
She arched a brow, cursing when the small movement stung. “I’m—”
“Fine. Right.”
“Casey.”
The muscle in his jaw tensed as he got impossibly closer.
“Do you know how many soldiers I watched die overseas all because they insisted they were fine? That the pain in their ribs or their stomach was nothing when it was really internal bl
eeding?”
“My ribs don’t hurt.”
“You also said you didn’t have a concussion, yet I’ve seen you stumble twice.” He placed his hands on her shoulders. “I know I’m the last person you want to show any weakness in front of, but I’ll be damned if I let you put yourself at risk in order to save face.” He smoothed her jacket off her shoulders. “A quick body sweep then you can ignore me for the rest of the night.”
“The rest of the night?”
“Did I stutter?”
“I can’t stay another night. I have a job. Cases.”
“All of which pales in comparison to dying, which is a possibility if you’re harboring additional injuries, or if you chance that road in the dark with a storm brewing. I’ll call your lieutenant, but you’re not going anywhere tonight.”
“Not going…” Juliet palmed his chest, shoving him out of her way before crossing the room. Heat burned beneath her skin as she turned on Casey, hands fisted at her side, chin held high. “Of all the arrogant… Sorry to disappoint you, but you lost the right to make decisions for me when you left. Either call me a damn cab, or I’ll simply walk—”
Her words cut off as he covered the scant distance between them then pinned her against the wall.
One hand held her hip while the other palmed the spot beside her head. His face filled her view as he lowered to her level.
“You think I don’t know how much of a bastard I was to you? But we’re talking about your life being at risk—”
“My life was at risk before. You just refused to see it.”
His jaw clenched again. “Fair enough. But I’m doing a body sweep, and you’re staying the night. Even if I have to tie you to that chair.”
Her breath caught as images of her bound and completely at his mercy ran through her head. Though they’d never done much experimenting, she’d be lying if she said the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. Not that this was the time or the place, but she couldn’t stop her treacherous body from reacting. Prevent her nipples from hardening against her bra or keep the flush from creeping up her neck and into her cheeks. And there was no mistaking the warm, wet feeling growing between her legs.
Blue Collar (A Boys Behaving Badly Anthology Book 2) Page 10
