Page 13 of Wrangled Up

Tucker couldn’t get enough of her. Her silky skin against his, her plush lips, her glittering, dark eyes. Fuck, he was in too deep and there was nothing he could do about it right now. He couldn’t tear himself from her arms if he tried.

Raising a boot, he kicked the bedroom door, sending it careening against the wall. For a second, he paused in the doorway with Claire in his arms. Holding her. Breathing her essence. Just breathing.

Impossible to erase memories of Heather in his bed. Though he’d had other women here—shared them with Christian too—he’dnever known emotion with anyone but Heather.

Tonight might be the night.

Shifting Claire’s weight, he stepped into the room. The plush carpet grabbed at the soles of his boots but offered no resistance. Hell, was there anything that might stop him from giving himself away again?

Claire nuzzled Tucker’s throat, rubbing her delicate skin against his five o’clock shadow. She made a humming sound not unlike a kitten with a belly full of cream.

Christian’s heat flamed over Tucker’s back as his friend drew up behind him. He could almost hear the man’s mind tick. Christian was waiting to see if Tucker would throw away this opportunity.

Ducking his head, Tucker captured Claire’s lips. She tilted her face up to his, bliss punctuated in her dark, slanting brows. A slight tremor ran through her and into him. The warm fingers of that involuntary show of emotion wrapped around his heart.

In two steps, he came up against the bed. Slowly, he bent and stretched her out on the smooth cotton coverlet. Then straightening, he stared at her. Her skin glowed against thebackdrop of charcoal gray. Curls framed her face, corkscrews he longed to thread his fingers into, letting them tighten and hold him.

As if he needed more reason to stay.

He had more reasons to run.

I’m sorry, Heather.

Tucker crawled onto the bed with Claire and lowered his weight atop her body. Bracing himself on his elbows, he stared at her until she squirmed. Christian rotated around the room, as restless as Tucker had ever seen him.

“Kiss her,” Christian whispered from his left.

Claire turned her head to take in Christian. Something warm lived in her eyes for Tucker’s best friend. Tucker had seen it before in women—she’d been exposed in brand new ways, and therefore had gained a connection with Christian.

Easing his fingers down her side, Tucker leaned in and kissed her. She parted her lips instantly, and he drove his tongue deep. Chasing her warm, wet tongue around her mouth, he lost himself to the sensations in his body—heaviness of want and the puddle that was his heart.

Claire rocked upward, her hips perfectly cradling his. He ground his erection into the V of her legs. Grasping her upper thigh, he bunched the cloth of her uniform dress, drawing it up to expose more of her legs.

Inching higher and higher, he then slipped his fingers between their bodies and found the wet lace covering her pussy. Christian groaned at the same moment she did.

Tucker’s grin spread over Claire’s lips. She hitched her legs up to provide better access.

“Christ, I can smell her need.” Christian raked his fingers through his hair. He paced toward the bed and leaned against the side, watching.

Tucker pushed back onto his knees and pressed Claire’s thighs upward to expose her juicy center. A choked noise sounded in Christian’s throat.

“Have you touched her yet, Chris?”

Claire shook her head and Christian followed.

Tucker swung his gaze to Claire’s. Dark, glittering pools of want met his. “Will you let Christian learn you as I have?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly. A pink flush stole over her cheeks.

Tucker’s smile widened. With quick flicks, he popped the buttons of her dress, exposing the flesh beneath bit by bit. The sweet curves of her breasts swelled from her lacy bra cups.

Using one finger, he traced the top of one then the other. She arched her back off the bed.

“Peel this dress off her, Christian.”

With jerky movements, Christian eased the fabric from her shoulders. Scooping his hands under her, he pressed the dress down her spine until Tucker was able to strip it over her hips.

Claire’s belly dipped with her harsh breathing. Tucker zeroed in on the tiny depression of her navel, just big enough to fit the tip of his pinky. Or his tongue.

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