Page 70 of When Sparks Fly

We’re seated nearly atop each other, watching a grain field blowing gently in the morning breeze, the wind whispering through the blind periodically. The sun is just starting to peek up over the horizon, splitting the sky with gorgeous tangerine and lavender hues. It’s breathtaking.

The tension between us continues to grow in the tiny, quiet space. I’m thankful at first that Sutton isn’t filling the silence with his whispers. They do things to me that I cannot be held accountable for. But as close as we are, my desire to be nearer deepens.

I gently tap the cooler with my outstretched feet, trying to curb the need to touch the man beside me.

Immediately his head snaps to me. I don’t look at him. If I do, I’m liable to start somethingI willfinish.

Tap, tap, tap.

“Maci.” His warning comes out close to a growl. Nothing is stopping me now. I don’t know if he thinks I’ll alert the deer to our presence or if he can feel my anticipation, but it doesn’t matter.

Tap, tap, tap.

He grips my leg with his large hand and I suck in a breath, fire blasting through me.Quit, he mouths, and yet we both know he’s not serious. I hold his molten stare.

Tap, tap, tap.

His grip tightens, but there’s no anger behind it. Like the magnets we are, he’s as drawn to me as I am to him. We both know sitting here in silence with no distractions is impossible.

“You’re going to leave a mark,” I whisper, resting my head against the wall behind us in feigned nonchalance as I look at him.

His voice is low and clear. “I have no problem marking you.”

I’ve grown to adore his charming, chivalrous side. I tolerate his over-the-top protective side. I also know there’s a part of himself he keeps locked away. A part that craves deeply and I’m not letting him hide anything from me. So I push.

“Doubtful. You’re such a gentleman.”

The words scarcely pass my lips before he leans across me to grab my right leg, hauling me to straddle him. “Are you sure you want to test that theory?” The challenge in his eyes ignites my passion and I grind my hips against his lap once. His nostrils flare.

“It’s not a theory.Sir.” His eyes flash with intensity.

Pressure releases from my legs as his hands move to grip my cheeks and he slams his lips into mine. I meet his fervor, pressing my palms into his chest to steady myself as he ravages my mouth with his hungry kiss.

One of his hands slides down to my hip while the other comes forward to grip my neck. I’m reminded of the night on the tailgate. I tilt my head up, exposing more of my neck to him, and grind my hips against him in response. He squeezes gently, eliciting a deep moan.

“Fuck, Firecracker,” he breathes against my lips. “You’re killin’ me.”

The bulge in his pants against my heat heightens my arousal. His hand on my neck slips back into my hair, gripping it tightly as he kisses and licks along my jaw and down my neck, following the path his hand took. His movements are less controlled than usual. He’s barely restrained.

I slide my hands higher, feeling every tight muscle beneath his shirt as they rise. His ball cap is in the way of me gripping his hair the way I want, so I take a moment to reposition it on my own head.

“Fuck, you look good like that, “ he says, diving back into my mouth, his grip in my hair tightening, earning him another moan.

My own grip tightens in his hair. It’s soft between my fingers.

“You remember me telling you I don’t share, right?”

I’m so flooded with wetness that I’m sure it’s seeping through my jeans. I bite my lip through a nod.

The hand on my hip slips under my shirt, tracing absently over my stomach. My muscles tighten in response.

His fingers untangle from my hair, his hand slowly sliding down my neck to my chest. A single finger traces over my shirt to my nipple as his eyes bore into mine. There’s nothing I can do to stop my back from arching into him. Or the quiet whimper he draws from me. My eyes are glued to his finger as it moves.

I suck a breath in between my teeth as his fingers travel lower, disappearing beneath my shirt with the other at my waist. Teasing along the top of my jeans, inching closer to the button.

My hips rock forward again.

“So responsive,” he murmurs, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to my collarbone. The shoulder of my shirt has fallen down one arm, exposing more of my chest to him. A warm gust passes through the blind, whispering along my skin.

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