“I almost chopped my hand off fucking with you,” he murmured. “The way you walked away from me carrying that damn wood like squeezing the logs would help rid you of the sexual frustration you felt when I stopped our kiss.”
“Then, why did you?” I asked, our mouths getting closer.
“Because I didn’t want to fuck you for the first time in sixteen years by pinning you up against the side of tree with the rough bark breaking your delicate, silky-brown skin.”
“I could have handled it,” I muttered.
“We’ll see what you can handle after this,” he said, closing the rest of the distance as his mouth met mine.
His kiss was hungry. Demanding. Our tongues in a battle to see who could bring about the greatest pleasure in the other, and honestly, I had no idea who was winning. I didn’t even care that we both smelled like outside because now, every time I smelled pine trees, I’d think of this.Him.
When he lifted me off the couch, I locked my legs around him, our lips never leaving each other. I had no idea where he was taking me, but I was ready foranythinghe had in mind.