Page 20 of Caught from Behind

I don’t want to deal with acres of land, don’t want to drive twenty minutes to get to a grocery store.

I want to get into my car, hit the road for fifteen minutes, pull into the heated—and thus, ice-free—driveway, and park in the garage.

With my woman waiting up in my bedroom.

My mouth hitches up when I hit the bottom of my stairs, see the light on in my bedroom, casting a fan of brightness on the carpet. Relief hits heavy and heady, mixing with pleasure, with need, with the memory of her fingers on my thigh, the sure way she’d cupped my dick.

Remembering that kiss, and the way she tasted, the soft pillows of her breasts pressing into my arm.

I’m going to see her naked, going to taste every inch of her, going to hear her moan out my name.

I’m going to give her so much pleasure that she’s not going to think about leaving me.

Not fucking ever.

My dick twitches, and my heart is pounding, but I push through those thoughts, shove them down, focus. This a game I need to play to win.

I walk into the bedroom and the sight of her?—

“Fuck,” I growl softly.

It’s everything I’ve dreamed of. More.

She’s everything I’ve dreamed of.

Lush and curvy…and not wearing underwear.

I don’t miss the flash of glistening pink when she spreads her legs, don’t miss the flush that spreads over the tops of her breasts, drifting down toward the hardened tips of her nipples that I need to get my mouth on.

I don’t miss…the bruise on her thigh.

Lightly trailing my fingers over it, I ask, “What happened?”

She looks down, frowns, as though she can’t remember. “With Nova,” she finally says. “She and Steve and I were having mules a few nights ago.”

“You need to be careful,” I murmur, leaning in to kiss the abused spot. “Need to take care of yourself.”

Or let me do it.

But I don’t say that, mostly because I’m inhaling the scent of her—flowers and woman and slick, hot desire. I flick out my tongue, tasting her, committing the earthy flavor of her to memory. I drag my tongue over her hip, along the indent of her waist, up her rib cage, brushing the side of her breast, trailing it in and up her throat, to her mouth, and?—

Freezing.

The scent of alcohol is strong, burning into my senses.

I pull back, enough to see her eyes, to see the faint dullness clinging to the blue depths.

Fuck.

Her mouth curves up. “Teasing?” she asks coyly, wrapping a leg around my hip. “I figured after you told me that my panties were optional, you’d jump me and fuck me senseless.” That sexy little smile grows. “Don’t worry,” she stage whispers, “I like being fucked within an inch of my life.”

Orgasms. Driving her crazy. Addicting her to me.

That was the plan.

But she’s drunk. Again.

She needs to drink to be here with me.

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