Page 86 of The Charm of You

I snort. “My truck bed would agree.”

“You’re such a terrible influence,” she whispers, her voice laced with desire. Do I hear a gasp? It sounded like the rising pitch of a hiccup, but I can’t be sure.

“Is that a yes?”

“On one condition,” she bargains, and I imagine the curl of her lips as she narrows her blue eyes. “Use my name again.”

“Done,” I mutter.

“Good, because I’ve had my hand between my thighs since you answered my call.”

I twitch in my hand, and my shaft somehow further hardens against my palm. A low growl springs free from deep inside my chest as I let my mind run rampant with fantasies of Caroline sprawled on her bed, the flowers of her comforter blossoming around her.

Her delicate fingers thrusting in and out of her tight heat with a frantic rhythm.

Those sultry lips of hers parted, and my name releasing in short, arousing bursts.

“You’re going to fucking kill me, Caroline,” I say loudly enough for her to hear me through the speaker.

“Say it again. Say my name.” She whimpers on the last word, and my blood boils.

“Imagine my cock where your fingers are, Caroline,” I rasp. “Imagine me pumping in and out of you like I did last night. You were so… fucking tight… and perfect.”

Her moans send hot blood careening through my stomach as I work my hand over the ridges of myself. My labored breaths match hers.

“The way you took me so well and eagerly last night—it was the shit of fantasies.”

Her hums echo through my phone like I’m losing her, but actually, she might be on the verge. Her sensual sounds are erratic, bursting in and out of the speaker like she’s trying her damnedest to be quiet, even though she’s alone.

“I’m so close,” she stammers.

“Come with me, Caroline.” My head falls back onto my bed, and I grunt as I thrust faster into my hand. I picture her on top of me, riding and fucking me like she’s never been happier.

In my head, she’s unhindered. Free. Unapologetic.

It’s damn glorious.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she pants and draws out the final yes in a blissful song of pleasure.

Hot spurts rain down my hand as my body jolts from the impact of my release, a reverent curse on my lips.

Caroline Summers and I just had phone sex.

I’m acting like a fucking teenager again.

Tonight, I feel young and alive and fun—that’s a first.

With a parting, breathless goodbye, we end the call, and I rise onto my bare feet, the muscles in my legs and abs shuddering with satisfaction.

She’s unbelievable.

Caroline is surprising and confusing and fucking hot.

And she’s into me, of all people.

Ten years ago, I never would’ve seen this coming. Hell, just last week, if someone would’ve told me I’d be in this situation right now, I would’ve laughed them out of town.

I take another quick shower and don’t survive a single second in there without thoughts of what we just did.

---