Page 64 of Wrangled Love

Jensen drums his fingers on the steering wheel, humming along to the country song on the radio. I take a moment to study him—the scruff framing his face, his bronzed skin, the subtle crow’s feet around his eyes, hinting at a summer full of laughter and smiles.

When he first returned to Bluebell, his small-town roots were buried beneath a big-city mindset. But now, he seems more at peace in his Wranglers and boots than he ever did in a suit and tie, and I can’t help but wish this version of him was here to stay.

My muscles tighten as he moves his hand in lazy strokesagainst my thigh, reminding me of our moment on the Ferris wheel—his mouth claiming mine, and his fingers pressing inside me as I came apart beneath his touch. I bite the inside of my cheek, willing my breathing to stay even.

Jensen glances over at me. “You’re awfully quiet.”

I nod, playing it cool. “Mm-hmm. Just taking in the view.” I motion toward the sky full of stars I hadn’t noticed until now.

“That so?” he replies coyly.

I gasp when his fingers slip beneath the hem of my skirt, his knuckles grazing the inside of my thigh. All I want is for him to move his hand up a few inches. My panties are still in his shirt pocket, and the only thing between me and another release is his refusal to move higher. Unfortunately, his touch is featherlight—maddening in its restraint. Jensen knows it’s not enough to satisfy me, but it’s more than enough to set fire to my skin.

Two can play this game.

I slide my hand across his lap, his grip tightening on the steering wheel when I graze over the thick bulge pressing against his jeans. A low groan slips from his throat when I add pressure, circling the outline.

“Briar, what are you doing?” Jensen’s voice is hoarse.

“Call it retaliation for all your teasing,” I say sweetly, feigning innocence.

His eyes darken as he glances at me. “You’re going to pay for that, darlin’.”

“Promises, promises.”

At this rate, the rest of the ride home will be one big test of restraint for us both.

By the time we reach the cottage, my body is a live wire, every nerve strung tight. Jensen’s hand hasn’t left my thigh, and if hedoesn’t give me more soon, I might combust. Who knew edging with clothes on could be so erotic? It’s a mix of sweet torture and desperate want. The inevitable crash after weeks of wanting him—close enough to touch but just beyond reach in all the ways that mattered.

The engine cuts off, and I exhale slowly, protesting when he lifts his hand from my thigh.

“Don’t move,” he says.

I open my mouth to respond, but he’s already getting out and jogging around to my side. He flings open the passenger door and reaches forward, carefully sliding me across the seat until I’m on the edge, my legs dangling out of the truck.

Jensen slides his arms around my waist, pulling me against him as he dips his head, kissing me with an urgency that matches my own. I swipe my tongue along his bottom lip, and his groan vibrates through me, low and desperate. He deepens the kiss, his hands sliding down my back as I weave my hands into his hair, tugging him closer, unable to get enough.

I’m lost in him, every part of me yearning for more, and I’m powerless to resist. Not that I’d want to, even if I could.

I flick my tongue against his, and he lets out a low groan.

“God, the things I want to do to this mouth.” He grabs my hand, guiding it down to his jeans, where his hard-on is visible and pressing against the fabric.

I trace the outline with my fingertips, relishing Jensen’s shudder beneath my touch.

“You’re the one taking your sweet time getting me to the bedroom,” I murmur, my tone sultry.

Maybe teasing him isn’t the best idea when my impending orgasm is at his mercy, but I want him to experience a fraction of the delicious torment I endured on the Ferris wheel and way home.

But I need himnow.

As if he can read my mind, he bends down and effortlesslyhoists me over his shoulder. My hands shoot out to grip his waist, my fingers curling around the belt loops on the back of his jeans to steady myself.

I gasp. “Jensen Harding, put me down this instant.”

He swats me playfully on the ass. “Behave, woman.”

A moan catches in my throat as I arch my neck to look at him. “Did you really just spank me?”

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