Page 48 of Lone Star Hostage

She did. Billie went after his shirt, pulling if off over his head so she could slide her hands and then her mouth over all those tight muscles. Mercy, the man was built, and if the need hadn’t been calling the shots here, she would have taken a lot more time to savor every inch of him.

Later,she promised herself.

Later, when they’d burned off some of this heat.

Presley wasn’t in the later mode yet though either. He dropped his hands to her waist, and kissing her, he slid them to the floor. In the same motion, he rid her of her top, and like her, he did more touching and kissing.

She heard him mutter a curse, and she cursed too when he lifted his head. Billie followed his gaze and saw what had snagged his attention. The bruise from the gunshot.

“It’s okay,” she managed to say through her gusting breath, and she pulled him back to her.

Their mouths met for another of those raging kisses before they began to grappled with their clothes. Again, speed seemed to matter here so there was some jockeying for position along with rolling around on the floor.

Billie got him out of his jeans. Then, his boxers. While he did the same to her jeans and panties.

“Finally,” she muttered.

But Presley only cursed again and started to fumble through the clothes they’d just discarded. It was probably only a couple of seconds but it felt like an eternity before he pulled out a condom from his wallet.

He got the darn thing on but still didn’t start sating this roaring need. Instead, he repositioned them with him sitting on the floor, his back anchored against the wall, and with her on his lap.

Then, he slipped inside her.

“Finally,” she said again, and this time, the frustration was gone, and in its place was pure pleasure.

Planting his hands on her hips, he thrust deeper into her, starting the strokes that fueled the fire even more. The urgency and need took total control. And Billie was fine with that. She was riding this hot storm, letting it take her to the only place she wanted to go.

And Presley was right there with her.

She felt the climax roll through her, claiming every inch of her body. Claiming her, and Presley gave her those final strokes to draw out every bit of the pleasure. When she was spent, when she could claim no more, Presley let himself go.

----- ? ----

Chapter Seventeen

----- ? ----

While he mulled over the phone call he’d just had with Ruby, Presley slapped together some turkey and cheese sandwiches. That was about the full extent of his food prep skills, and he chowed down on one and some chips while he waited for Billie to finish getting cleaned up and come into the kitchen.

It’d been damn tempting not to hang around with her for her shower, but he’d needed his own shower and change of clothes. Plus, if he’d stayed, they would have likely ended up having a second round of sex, and he figured her bruised, battered body didn’t need that.

He wasn’t sure what he needed—other than the over the counter pain meds he’d just taken—but he was pretty sure thinking time had to be part of what was left of the afternoon. Eating time, too, since Billie and he hadn’t managed lunch, and it was already past three PM.

There was a mixed bag of emotions going on inside him. He was troubled by the things Ruby had told him, but he also still had a nice buzz from being with Billie. Now, there was a jolt of energy from the food that he’d clearly needed.

But there was also the head stuff.

The nonstop whirl of thoughts and information. Once this investigation was over, he’d obviously have some sorting out to do.

He looked up when he heard the footsteps and saw Billie walk in to the room. Or rather limp in anyway.

Hell.

He took out the bottle of ibuprofen and put it next to the sandwiches.

“Thanks,” she muttered. “You’ve already taken some?”

He nodded and got her a glass of ice water. “I should have moved us to the bed…” But that was as far as the apology got before she leaned in and kissed him.

---