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“Nothing,” she said lightly. “I wouldn’t want you to think I’m only interested in sex.”

She expected him to either laugh or get slightly offended. Instead, his low chuckle made her shiver from head to toe.

“So you don’t want me to shove this pretty dress up and fuck you?”

It was dark green khaki—not exactly what she’d consider pretty, but he’d kept touching her legs as they were driving, so that was a win.

“I don’t know how interesting you’d find shoving my dress up. I’m not even wearing panties.”

He groaned. “It was so hard to say no to you last night, but I honestly never sleep with women when they’ve been drinking. Ever. Never have.”

“It’s not because you’re already bored with me?”

“Did I feel bored with you then? Do I now?”

She ground her ass back against him, as though she needed to check again. “How am I supposed to know that’s not a crowbar in your pants?”

“Feel free to check.”

He slid his hand up the side of her thigh, and she felt herself getting more lust-hazed by the minute, no matter how sore she still was from the last time they’d had sex. What had she been thinking, trying to convince him to put out last night, when walking still made muscles—and other things—twinge?

But he was hot and seriously hard to resist, especially since her body knew what kind of pleasure he could bring it.

It wasn’t just the sex though.

She loved talking to him too.

Why couldn’t he have some sort of legal job? If he had a legal job, she’d date the hell out of him, no matter what he was doing for a living. It wasn’t like he needed to be loaded. She had enough money for both of them.

He slid his fingers into her hair, and she waited for him to close his fist in it, then realized if he didn’t she’d be disappointed. What a strange thing to be used to. Shivers raced across her skin as the expected happened, and she sighed with satisfaction. Nervous excitement grew low in her belly.

“What are you doing?” she asked with false shock and alarm.

“Fucking you one last time.”

She managed to avoid clapping her hands in glee.

Roughly, he marched her into the woods, her body hopelessly aroused by his firm grip on her hair. Being dragged off somewhere secluded by a hot guy was one of her fantasies, and he couldn’t be doing a better job of it even if she’d written him a script.

He sounded as if he was forcing himself to breathe slowly. Was dragging her off exciting for him too? They?

?d had sex once in the woods in Glacier, but it had been quick because they never knew when someone could happen upon them. Here it was different. Here they weren’t even near the SUV, or even the dirt road.

“You’re going to get us lost,” she warned. A rock turned under her foot and she stumbled, but he steadied her.

“You wish.” He stopped for a minute, pushing her head to the side and biting her neck.

She braced herself against a tree trunk, her knees going weak.

Fuck.

A scarf was going to have to be part of her wardrobe for the next few days, terrible man, but it felt so good. It also reminded her of when he’d bit her nipples, her thighs, her belly . . .

It burned. Ached. Made her squeeze her now-slick thighs together.

The cry of pleasure she blurted was loud, but he clamped his hand over her mouth. Oh fuck, this was too good. He nipped her neck over and over, making her yelp. Every bite flashed heat through her body. She squirmed and he pressed against her ass, enticing her to shove back, excited about how hard he was for her, impatient for him to take her there and then. Her struggles had made her skirt ride up, and the rough denim of his jeans scraped along her still sore bottom.

“Fuck me, please,” she begged, his big hand muffling her words. “Please!” The whine was high pitched in her ears. Why did he have to drive her so crazy?


Tags: Sparrow Beckett Masters of Adrenaline Erotic