Page 34 of When We Burn

His five o’clock shadow feels delicious against my skin, and I just can’t get enough of him.

But he pulls back, his dark eyes bright with lust, and he’s as out of breath as I am. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah.” I lick my lower lip, still tasting him there, and my eyes fall to his lips. “Wow.”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t?—”

“I do.” I grin up at him as his hands glide down my back and grip my rear, lifting me so I can wrap my legs around his waist. My fingers plunge into his thick, dark hair, and there’s really nothing I’ve ever wanted more in this life than Bridger. “I really do.”

“Thank Christ.”

I’m vaguely aware of him carrying me through the house, but I’m too busy kissing him. My arms are locked around his neck, and his fingertips are digging into my butt, so close to that extra sensitive place between my legs.

Bridger lowers me to my feet, and one of his hands fists in my hair at the nape, holding me where he wants me as his mouth continues to plunder mine, as if I’m the feast that he can’t get enough of.

We may have been interrupted all week when it cameto getting our lips on each other, but he’s making up for it now, and it’s so much more than what I could have imagined.

My hands are under his shirt, on his smooth, warm skin. His stomach is hard, his abs defined, and I can’t wait to see them, so I nudge his shirt up, and I feel him smile against my lips.

“In a hurry?” He’s kissing down my jawline, making me shiver.

“No hurry.” I swallow thickly, his tongue making me lightheaded. “Just needy.”

“What do you need, kitten?”

I need things that I donotfeel comfortable articulating out loud. I love that Bridger seems to be a dirty talker, but I am not good with words. I learned at an early age that speaking up led to pain.Thisis not that, but old habits die hard. Still, I give him the words he needs to hear.

“You.”

He smiles against my skin, and his hands have moved to the buttons of my dress, slowly pulling them free.

“And?”

I don’t reply. I just tug on his shirt, and finally, he reaches over his head and pulls it off, tossing it aside.

“Better?”

“Yeah.” Holy mother of God. I feel my eyes go wide as they travel down the length of his long torso. He’s got muscles for days. My fingers reach out to brush lightly over the hills and valleys of those muscles, and my entirebody tightens with need. “Did you sell your soul to the devil to look like this?”

His chuckle is low and full of satisfaction as he kisses my forehead. “You’re good for my ego, kitten.”

Shaking my head, I let my fingertips drift over his chest, over the light dusting of hair there and down to each nipple, circling them softly.

“Fuuuck,” he mutters as his head falls back. My fingertips move up his neck, over his Adam’s apple.

My eyes flick up to his when he lowers his chin, and he’s watching me. His jaw is tense, the sexy muscle there twitching.

And when my hand drifts to the button of his jeans, he circles my wrist and brings it to his lips, kissing the tender flesh over my pulse point.

“Not yet,” he murmurs. “Take off your dress.”

I’ve never done the striptease thing. Typically, if I was getting it on with someone, it was dark, and we just got naked and did the deed.

Quick and efficient.

There was no teasing, no flirting—no revealing my larger body—just get to the point. I wouldn’t know how to be…I don’t know…alluring, if a million dollars was on the line.

Bridger’s eyebrows raise, and his hands return to my buttons. “Do you want me to help?”

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