“Your feet hurt?” Donny asked, taking my hand and helping me out of the truck.
“Killing me,” I admitted, then let out a little squeak as his hands grabbed my waist and he hauled me into his arms, bridal-style.
“Get the door for me, Deej,” he called out. “Your mom’s feet are sore.”
After a beat, the doors slammed closed, and Donny locked them using the key fob he still held in his hand before setting off for the house.
“Jeez, dude, I can walk you know,” I protested. “I’m too heavy.”
“You questioning my he-man superstrength?” he shot back. “Talk about emasculating a man.”
“Well, I’m not a skinny minnie,” I pointed out, sweeping an arm down my body.
“No, you’re not, thank fuck,” he muttered. “You’re a sexy mama, is what you are, but you’re not heavy. And anyway”—he lowered the timbre of his voice—“me strong like a bull.”
Gabby giggled loudly from behind me.
I rolled my eyes left to right and let out a huff.
Whatever.
“I’ll make sure Barney’s contained,” DJ offered, moving ahead of us and taking out his keys. After climbing the porch steps, he unlocked the front door and headed inside.
By the time Donny had carried me up to the front door, DJ was standing on the porch holding our Border Collie by the collar and trying to slip his lead on. It wasn’t an easy task, seeing as our dog was excitable to say the least, and the prospect of meeting a new human seemed a bit too much for him because he literally shook with excitement at the sight of Donovan.
“Barney needs walking,” DJ declared. “Gonna take him over the back field and let him off the lead for ten minutes. Mr. Kent’s horses would’ve been stabled hours ago.”
“I’ll come with you,” Gabby offered.
“Can you just make sure the horses are in first, honey?” I asked. “Sometimes he lets them run late in the summer.”
DJ nodded and pulled Barney down the steps toward the field at the back of the house, with Gabby following.
“I like your dog,” Donovan told me, heading into the house. He walked over to our massive corner couch and carefully sat me down. Then he got down on bended knee and started unfastening my shoes.
“He’s rad,” I agreed. My gaze followed his movements, marveling at how gently he handled me and how fucking hot he looked on his knees in front of me. Donovan must have seen the appreciation in my eyes because suddenly the air in the room became charged, like a bolt of lightning had flashed through it, leaving electricity in its wake.
Donny’s eyes dropped to my mouth, then suddenly, my back was crushed to the couch, and he was on top of me, his lips finding mine and taking them in a hard kiss.
I gasped against his mouth, and he took the opportunity to slip his tongue inside, making all breathwhooshfrom my lungs. Suddenly, I struggled to breathe—not in a choke-to-death way, but in a robbed-of-all-senses way. It was like Donovan had an inbuilt tractor beam with rays that pulled me in whether I wanted it or not, and right then, it was tractor beaming at full force.
Every inch of his body was hard, including the dick pressing against my belly. The only thing soft about him was his lips that moved expertly against mine. He was the best kisser I’d ever known; in fact, he was the besteverythingI’d ever known. He was a sexy, generous lover, and fun too. Our night together wasfiled away in my spank bank, and no doubt it would remain there until the day I met my maker.
My fingers ran through his hair, tugging gently as I sighed into his mouth. Then I made a little noise of protest in the back of my throat as Donovan groaned, released my lips, and pulled back slightly.
“There’s so much I wanna do to you right now,” he rasped. “But the kids won’t be long, and it’s probably better to ease them into this. Letting them catch us making out on the couch isn’t the best way to go.”
The fluttering in my belly moved to my heart, and I smiled wryly. “I guess not.”
Donovan pulled back and stood, adjusting his crotch, which, thanks to our mini necking session, was bulging.
I sighed ruefully at the waste of a perfectly good hard-on, then, sitting up, I lifted my face and cocked my head. “You want a beer?”
“Better not, baby. I’m driving.”
“Coffee?” I asked. “I have a Keurig.”
He smiled his thanks. “Coffee’s good.” He held out a hand to pull me up from the couch, then, keeping hold of my fingers, he led me toward the kitchen. He looked around the place at the off-white walls and family pictures adorning them. “Your place is great. You’ve got almost as many pictures as my mam, and I gotta say, Posy, you’ve got good-looking kids.”
