Page 49 of Sinful Escape

Tiny pulses had the butterflies in my stomach dancing.

He appeared, carrying two red and blue tartan horse blankets. He tossed them onto a hay bale and strode to me. Oh, my lord. Clutching my cheeks, he pressed his lips to mine. Our breaths mingled. Our tongues dueled. The bulge in his pants nudged my navel and my insides curled.

This is what I’m doing. Kissing a fucking hot guy who wants me.

With a groan, he released me. He strode to the bale of hay, cut the twine securing it, grabbed the heavy-looking biscuit and shook the hay like crazy. The bundle disintegrated into a million pieces over the wooden floor. With bulging biceps, he reduced two more bales to a scattered pile.

The sea of golden-green smelled fresh, alive. If color had a scent, green would be this hay.

He grabbed a horse blanket, flicked it to billow out, and lowered the tartan on top of the hay. He’d done this before. He placed the second blanket on top of the first and turned to me.

His chest rose and fell, maybe from exertion, maybe from anticipation. The look in his eyes was a potent aphrodisiac and the way they devoured me . . . I didn’t care if he’d made this makeshift bed a thousand times.

Right now, that bed is for me.

Fuck yeah!

We gazed at each other across the room. All sorts of anxieties shot through me.

Was I ready for this? What if I’m terrible?

A thought bolted across my brain like forked lightning.

Once I’m naked, what if Luca doesn’t like what he sees?

Maybe he sensed my hesitation because he whipped his shirt over his head and cast it aside. Every last ounce of my uncertainty evaporated. Luca, shirtless, was drool-worthy. A muscled God. A light sheen covered his flawless flesh, highlighting every sculpted line in his torso. He didn’t just have a six-pack; his body was a masterpiece carved from years of labor. My gaze followed a trail of coppery hair that ran from below his navel into his belted jeans.

Holy hotness.

My throbbing girly bits swooned. I want this.

Roman was right. This was exactly what I needed. I was not an old woman.

To prove my conviction, I reached around beneath my blouse and unclipped my bra. Ensuring Luca didn’t see my ugly underwear, I peeled it and my top off at the same time, tossing them aside.

My melons bounced to my chest; his eyes bounced to them.

My skin tingled as his gaze devoured me. Every nerve in my body came alive.

Out of nowhere, a second more horrifying thought flashed into my brain. My hairy red beaver hadn’t seen a razor in years. I looked like an Amazonian woman down there.

My feet were rooted to the floor. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe.

His lips parted as if he was about to speak, but he didn’t. Instead, he closed the distance between us with three long strides, wove his fingers into my hair, and planted his lips on mine. My heart exploded with the eagerness of his tongue.

My knees melted as my hands explored his chest, gliding over warm skin, examining each exquisite contour. His flesh was on fire, stoking the blaze firing through me. His hand found my nipple and he rolled it between his thumb and finger, playing with the delicate bud until I thought it would burst.

Our lips parted and while he turned his attention to my neck, kissing and nipping from my shoulder to my earlobe, I rolled my head back, giving him more access. Shivers of delight coiled through me, radiating from deep inside and culminating in a delicious shudder within my pussy.

My insides came alive, pulsing out a heady beat.

I reached for his jeans, fumbling with the top button.

He did the same with my cargo pants.

I undid his zipper, fed my thumbs into the sides of his pants, and tried to tug them down.

Luca stepped back. Bending over, he wrestled his boots off, and in what could only be described as a lust-fueled frenzy, kicked his jeans free.

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