Page 66 of The Woman with the Handcuffs

“Caitlin…”

His voice was tight, his body tensed.

I knew how much he wanted this but that little whispered word was his way of saying it was okay if I didn’t.

Which, well, only made me want to more.

My tongue traced the indent down the center of his stomach, delighting me as the muscles on each side twitched and tightened at the sensation.

I could feel how quick and shallow his breath had gotten, how much harder he felt against my body as I kept moving downward.

I reached downward, cupping him through his pants, dragging a groan out of Gav.

I stroked him through the material for a moment before I shifted all the way back, my legs cramped against the side of the tractor, but I barely noticed as I pulled down the front of his pants and his hard length appeared, thick and straining.

A strange, desperate sound escaped me, making Gav suck in his breath. When my gaze shifted up to his, I found his eyes molten with desire, his need coiled so tight that a muscle ticked in his jaw.

Watching him, I closed my hand around his length, loving the way his lips parted, how his eyes went hazy.

When I stroked him down to the base and started to lower down, I could feel the anticipation inside hum, the way he was trying to hold himself back from grabbing me, from guiding me.

But before I took him into my mouth, I took a second to circle my tongue around the tip, making his hips buck upward and a curse explode from between his lips.

Spurred on by his reaction, I sucked him into my mouth, working him slowly at first as he gathered my hair and held it at the nape of my neck, his other hand on the back of it, not pressuring me, just holding on as I worked him.

It wasn’t long before his need took over, making him rock his hips up into my mouth—faster, deeper.

So that was how I moved, too, giving him exactly what his body was craving as his ragged breaths and low groans filled the small tractor, making want press low in my belly again.

“Baby,” he called, voice holding a warning.

One I didn’t want.

I took him deeper, feeling him pulse as he came, his body tense, his groan meeting my ears.

He pulled me up afterward, pressing my head to his chest, and draping his arms around me.

“Sleep,” he demanded, seemingly perfectly comfortable with me using him as a mattress in the small bed.

I didn’t think I would when my body was still thrumming with a heady combination of pleasure and desire.

But with his body beneath me, his arms around me, and his heartbeat in my ear, I found myself drifting back to sleep within minutes.

The spider momentarily forgotten.

The next time I woke, it was to the sounds of doors slamming and engines firing up.

“You sleep like the dead,” Gav told me as his hand slid up and down my spine.

“I’ve been told,” I agreed. “It’s kind of necessary in truck stops and motels. What time is it?”

I knew I should probably get up, slide away. Things were feeling a little awkward in the light of day. But I couldn’t seem to find the motivation to move.

“Almost nine.”

“Nine?” I asked, popping up to look down at him. But my face fell forward to curtain us, making Gav reach to gently tuck it behind my ears. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“It seemed like you needed the rest. After Spidergate 2.0.”