She shuts her eyes, lips parting, waiting, and I lean in without hesitation. Sawyer's hands move restlessly over my shoulders, my chest, like she's rediscovering new territory. I pull back just enough to look at her sexy, soft lips. She’s beautiful in a way that makes my chest ache.
"Come here," I say, my voice rougher than I intend.
I guide her over to me, and she climbs onto my lap,straddling me. My hands grip her waist, feeling the shape of her through the fabric of her dress. The steering wheel presses into her back, making her arch closer to me. She loops her arms around my neck, fingers threading through my hair. The gentle pull is electric.
"There’s nothing like kissing a cowboy," she breathes, pulling away slightly.
I don't answer with words. Instead, I reclaim her mouth, pouring everything I can't say into the kiss. All the nights I lay awake thinking of her. All the times I couldn’t unglue my gaze from her. All the ways I've wanted her without letting myself admit it.
Her body melts against mine. One of my hands slides to the small of her back, pressing her closer, while the other moves higher, tangling in her hair. The silky strands wrap around my fingers like they belong there.
The kiss turns deeper, more insistent. Her hips grind against mine, and she moans into my mouth, the sound so soft and sweet. The truck suddenly feels too small, too constrained. I need more room to touch her, to hold her properly.
In frustration, I kick out with my boot, pushing against the door. It swings open, the night air rushing in cool and welcome against our heated skin.
“Smooth,” Sawyer teases, breathless.
“Never said I was smooth,” I say against the warm curve of her neck. “Just determined.”
She laughs—low and genuine—and tilts her head, giving me more room like she wants me to keep going. Her hands slip beneath my shirt, fingers skating across my skin. Feels like lightning, the way she touches me. Like she doesn’t even realize what she’s stirrin’ up.
One boot hits the gravel outside for balance. “Hold on, darlin’,” I say, tightening my grip.
I lift her with me, one quick motion, and her legs wrap around me as I step down from the truck.
“This isn’t about him,” she says suddenly, voice soft but sure, as I carry her toward the porch. “Just so you know.”
“Didn’t think it was,” I lie without flinching. It’s what she needs to hear. And hell, maybe I wish it were true, but if she wants to use me as a summer fling, or to make a man jealous who she may eventually go back to, I’m fine with that. Having her in any capacity she wants, is more than I deserve.
She watches me, her icy eyes narrowing just a little, like she sees right through me keepin’ my cool.
“You’re a terrible liar, Tristan Stetson.”
I glance down at her, the corners of my mouth tugging into a slow grin. “Good thing I’m better at other things.”
"Inside," she manages, finally. "Now."
I should hesitate. Should remind her that this might be a mistake. Instead, I press my forehead against hers, breathing in the scent of her, feeling the warmth of her skin against mine. "Thought you’d never ask."
The key fumbles in my hand, my fingers trembling as I try to unlock the door. My mouth is locked on hers, our tongues tangling like they’re fighting to survive. She’s pressed against me, her body hot and desperate, her legs wrapped around my waist like she’s trying to fuse us together.
Fuck, she feels amazing.
The hallway is dark, but I don’t need light. The way her hips grind against me, the way her breath hitches when I bite her bottom lip, the way her hands claw at my back like she’s trying to tear through my shirt—it’s all I need. It’senough to burn the warning clean out of my head. I should stop. I should remember who she is, who I’m supposed to be. But all I can think about is more.
We stumble through the house, knocking over a lamp, a vase, who fucking cares. She laughs against my mouth, a low, dirty sound.
I carry her to the bedroom, her legs still locked around my waist, her heels digging into my ass. I’m hard as fucking steel, straining against my jeans, and I know she can feel it. She rocks her hips against me, teasing, and I groan, the sound ripped from my throat.
I drop her onto the bed, and she barely bounces once before I’m on her, my hands everywhere. My mouth finds hers again, kissing her deep and slow, like I’m trying to memorize the taste of her.
She moans into my mouth, her hands fumbling with my shirt, pulling it off in a rush. Her lips move down my neck, her teeth scraping against my skin, and goosebumps erupt all at once. I kiss her neck, her collarbone, her stomach, my tongue tracing the curve of her hipbone. She shivers beneath me, her hands tangling in my hair, pulling me closer.
The moment my fingers slide up her dress, I feel her shudder beneath me. It’s like electricity, fucking raw and primal, as my fingertips graze the soaked fabric of her panties. I press and massage her harder, feeling her squirm under my touch.
I move between her legs and put one over my shoulder, spreading her wider, lovin’ the way her legs tremble as I expose her, and the sight of her—fuck, it’s sinful. Her pussy is slick and glistening, begging for me.
I lean in, brushing my lips against the soft skin of her inner thigh, and she gasps, her back arching off the bed.
