Page 18 of One Hot Summer

“Carson,” I breathe, my voice thick with desire. “Please…”

He pulls back, his eyes searching mine. “Are you sure about this?”

The concern in his voice touches me, even as it frustrates me. I reach up, cupping his face in my hands. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” I tell him, pouring every ounce of sincerity into my words.

A slow smile spreads across Carson's face, transforming his rugged features. He leans down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss that leaves me breathless. His hands roam my body, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

As clothing is shed and skin meets skin, I lose myself in the sensation of Carson's touch. The world outside the barn fades away, leaving only us. Carson's callused fingers trace a path along my collarbone, my breath hitches. I can feel the cool evening air against my bare skin, pebbling my nipples into tight little peaks. But Carson's body is a furnace, radiating heat that sears my skin and makes me ache for his touch.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice rough with desire.

His lips are firm, his tongue exploring mine with slow, deliberate strokes that make my knees buckle.

His hands are everywhere, kneading my ass, squeezing my breasts, tugging at my nipples until I gasp with pleasure. And all the while, he whispers filthy, dirty things in my ear, things that make me blush and squirm with desire.

His fingers teasing my swollen clit as I moan and rock my hips against his hand. “You're so fucking wet for me. I can feel it dripping down your thighs.”

His words make me wetter, if that's even possible. Carson's thumb finds my clit again, rubbing it in slow, teasing circles as I grind against his hand, seeking release. And when he crooks his fingers inside me, hitting that sweet spot deep inside me, I lose all control.

My orgasm hits me like a freight train, leaving me weak and shuddering in his arms. But Carson's not done with me yet. He lays me all the way back on the pile of hay, spreading my legs wide as he sinks into me.

My body stretching to accommodate his impressive size. He stills for a moment, allowing me to adjust, his eyes locked on mine. The tenderness in his gaze makes my heart swell.

“You okay?” he whispers, brushing a strand of hair from my face.

Carson begins to move, slowly at first, each thrust sending waves of pleasure through my body. My hands roam his broad back, feeling the play of muscles beneath his skin.

Carson's pace quickens, his hips snapping against mine with increasing urgency. I meet him thrust for thrust, my body arching off the hay to press against his. The friction is exquisite, building a familiar tension low in my belly.

“Fuck, Kelsie,” Carson groans, his voice strained. “You feel so good, baby. So tight, so wet for me.”

His words send a shiver down my spine. I drag my nails down his back, eliciting a hiss of pleasure from him.

“More,” I gasp. “Please, Carson. I need more.”

He obliges, hitching one of my legs higher on his hip and driving into me deeper. The change in angle has me seeing stars, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside me. I'm close, so close, teetering on the edge of bliss.

Carson's hand snakes between our bodies, his thumb finding my clit. He rubs it in tight circles, perfectly in sync with his thrusts. It's too much, and yet not enough.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he urges, his blue eyes dark with desire. “Let go. I've got you.”

His words are my undoing. My orgasm crashes over me like a tidal wave, my body arching off the hay as pleasure courses through me. I cry out Carson's name, my inner walls clenching around him.

Carson follows me over the edge moments later, his hips stuttering as he finds his release. He collapses on top of me, his weight a comforting presence as we both struggle to catch our breath.

As the afterglow settles over us, reality begins to seep back in. What have we done? What does this mean for us? But as Carson raises his head to look at me, his eyes full of warmthand something that looks suspiciously like love, I push those thoughts aside.

Chapter Twelve

Carson

Istand at the edge of the ranch, my calloused hands resting on the weathered wooden fence. I swore I wouldn't let anyone get close again, not after what happened with Collin's mother. But Kelsie…She's not like the others.

I start down the gravel path toward the house. I want Kelsie in my life—in Collin's life—more than I care to admit. I approach the house, and the sight that greets me stops me in my tracks. Collin sits at the kitchen table, his small face scrunches as he bends over his homework. His dark hair falls across his forehead, and his tongue pokes out as he focuses on the task at hand.

My heart swells with love for my boy, but it is tinged with something else—gratitude. Since Kelsie has come into our lives, evenings like this have become more common. Collin seems more settled, more willing to tackle his schoolwork without a fuss.

“Hey, buddy,” I say, not wanting to break his concentration. “How's it going?”

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