My body burns as he asks the question that’s been racing through my brain all night.
What do I want?
“Hose,” I say.
A chuckle rumbles in his throat. “I’m working with some great equipment, babe. But I can’t give you a hose.”
“Ohmigod, no. I didn’t mean that.” Mortified, heat crawls up my neck. I cover my face with my hands and pray for the ground to open up and swallow me whole. This prolonged foreplay is zapping my brain cells one by one.
His soft laugh curls around me. “I know. I was just messing with you.”
I whack him. “Jerk.”
“I’ll make it up to you. I promise.” He glances around. “Where is this hose you speak of?”
“I can do it.”
He captures my elbow, and pulls me close, close enough that his thickening cock indents my stomach, and for a second, I can’t help but think he’s not as calm as he’s trying to portray.
“I know you can, but I can too.” He brushes my hair from my face. “And when I’m done, I’m going to do all the dirty things to you, Charlie.”
“Hose…over there,” I blurt out, and he grins at my enthusiasm. I take in the quirk of his lips, and my own tingle with the urgency to kiss him again.
“You go on in, and I’ll take care of this.”
While I’m not used to anyone doing things for me—heck, I’ve been independent my whole life—I nod eagerly. In the dark, the path lit only by the bonfire, I walk like a drunken sailor to my dome, or rather Wes’ dome. My stupid legs are all wobbly and my heart is racing so hard, I think I might break a rib. I step into the dome and his scent is all over the place. I stand there for a brief second and glance around, my gaze landing on that big, comfy king-sized bed.
What do I do? Do I crawl in it and strike a sexy pose? That thought brings a maniacal laugh to my throat. I wear rubber boots and coveralls—the opposite of the girls he gravitates toward. What the hell do I know about being sexy? The smell of billowing smoke reaches my nostrils as Wes douses the fire and I hurry up the ladder to root my pajama shorts and T-shirt from my bag. I tug them on, and glance out the unzipped roof to admire the stars glimmering in the velvet backdrop.
Footsteps announce Wes’ arrival, and he secures the door behind him. He makes a trip to the bathroom, and when he comes out, I sit quietly on my bed, trying not to breathe, or make a sound. I have no idea what I’m doing. I want this. I want him. I’m just a jittery mess of arousal, and maybe in the back of my mind, I’m worried that once I’ve been with a guy like him, it’ll ruin me for any other man. He is after all, an NHL superstar with a harem of women.
That means he should know how to please you, so tell him what you want already.
“Is the loft where you want me to do all the dirty things to you, Charlie?”
OMG. His words are crude, and sexy all at the same time and I make a gasping sound, surprised by how much I like his deep tenor, the way he gets right to the point.
“I…uh…”
He walks to the end of the ladder. “There is no way you’re leaving this place unsatisfied.”
“It’s supposed to be the other way around,” I croak out, and have no idea why I said that. But what kind of man comes to a place like this, where his satisfaction is my utmost importance, and turns it around on me.
A very considerate one… Why though? Why is he being so considerate? This is the guy that teased me relentlessly years ago.
“Maybe so, but this guest wants to take you six ways to Sunday, and what a guest wants he gets, right?” I crawl to the end of the bunk and peek at him. He grins up at me. “Are you coming down or am I coming up there to get you?”
I shift, and put one foot on the ladder, and can almost feel his eyes drilling into my ass. As I reach the bottom step, big hands circle my waist and set me on the floor. I slowly turn, and my pulse jumps at the intense way he’s staring at me.
This man is going to eat me alive. But more importantly, I’m going to let him. I take in the leaves on his clothes, the soot from the fire.
“You’re all dirty,” I say.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he warns and slides one big hand around my neck. Shivers race down my spine as he angles his head and presses his lips to mine, and just like that, I lose myself in his kisses. His tongue meets mine, and he tastes me, takes me, and groans into my mouth. Excitement that I can do this to him dances in my nervous stomach.
His hand falls from the back of my neck, and he gathers my hands and secures them behind my back, holding them in place with one big hand and my pulse jumps. He eyes me. “Don’t like that?”
“I…I…it’s different.”