Page 18 of Headed for Home

That sultry rasp wraps my cock in a fist and tugs. “Can I kiss you?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time, and after that entrance?” Cassidy motions down the length of her body. “You better.”

In a fluid motion, she’s braced against me with my palm flat on her upper back. The other hand clutches her waist as I lower her into a dipped position. She gasps, her fingers clinging to the front of my shirt. My primal instincts roar at catching her off guard. The crowd agrees, encouraging me with whoops and hollers that pound my eardrums.

Cassidy’s eyes skewer mine as I swoop down and drop my mouth onto hers. Tingles spark from where we’re connected, confirming what I already know. I snag her bottom lip between my teeth, sucking gently. The pressure melts her shock and she relaxes against me. Her breathy exhale grants me entry to glide my tongue along hers. I groan into her mouth. She tastes better than pitching a strikeout to win the series.

I slide my hand into her hair and several strands tumble loose from the braid. My grip cradles her head to steer the kiss. In response, Cassidy slings her arms around my neck and holds on for the ride.

This is meant to be chaste and quick, much like our first peck as kids. But my need for her rushes to the surface and consumes me. I’m not alone in this desperation to get closer. Cassidy hitches her leg higher and hooks herself to my hip. Our mouths form a tight seal that feels unbreakable.

We feed off this undeniable chemistry. I devour our combined heat until the threat of combustion thrashes through my veins.

It’s just us in this room. The crowd is drowned out when she mewls for more. That decadent tune repeats, spilling into my mouth like a shot of pleasure. My lips slide along hers to get another dose. Every slick lash from her tongue gets me higher. More intoxicated. Totally fucking gone. I lose myself in her and our second kiss that’s much more potent than the first.

My blood pumps faster and hotter, surging south at a record-breaking pace. The strain in my jeans doubles, along with the realization that we’re in public. I’m about to give the folks in Roosters a side of sausage they didn’t order. Nobody gets my bulge except the woman in my arms.

I don’t want to stop, but our spectators are getting rowdy. The chorus of cheers and shouts is almost deafening. Cassidy smiles into the last brush of our kiss and I sip on the curve of her mouth. After a final sweep of my tongue along her lower lip, I pull away and set her upright.

Our foreheads touch as she wobbles on her feet. I tighten my grip to anchor her to me. Letting go isn’t part of the plan. Cassidy’s grin spreads wider as if she can hear those possessive thoughts swirling through my head.

“How was that?” I exhale across her lips, which are somehow still painted.

“Way hotter than in my books.”

I whistle. “That’s high praise.”

“You deserve it.” This woman is a surprise from every angle. Her soft sigh could knock me sideways.

I can’t wait to see what else she’s capable of doing to me. “What’s gotten into you? Not that I’m complaining. This reaction is just… unexpected.”

“It’s been a very, very long time since I’ve had a night out. I’m taking advantage.”

“Well, this is the first of many. “

She hums in response. “Where are we sitting?”

“Your choice.” I thrust an arm toward my domain that’s hers for the taking.

Her striking gaze scans the space. About half the tables are occupied. “There.”

My attention swings to the high-top in the far corner hidden by shadows. “Very private.”

“Precisely.”

I motion her forward into the cock den. “Give me a second. Gotta grab something.”

Cassidy nods and begins weeding through the throng while I snag her gift from behind the bar. I keep my chin tucked to avoid distractions—mostly my friends and their nosiness—but a bottle of bubbly demands recognition. Two glasses join the bundle and then I’m crossing the room to our chosen spot. Her gaze tracks me, green flames burning brighter with each step I take. It’s a miracle I’m not incinerated by the time I reach her.

She quirks a brow at my choice of beverage. “Champagne?”

I get myself situated on the tall chair. “We’re celebrating.”

“Oh?”

“It’s our anniversary.”

Confusion morphs her expression into an unreadable mask. “Come again?”

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