Page 64 of Legacy of Lies
On his side, Garrison slid a hand under her sweatshirt and stroked over the skin of her ribs.
“So soft,” he murmured.
He eased the sweatshirt over her head and away.
“Shit.”
Putting a hand on his shoulder, she pushed him away. “What?”
“Your arm.”
He traced the purple bruise. His eyes darkened as his brows drew together.
“Hank’s going to pay for putting his hand on you.”
The line of his jaw went rigid.
She slid her hand to his neck and kneaded the muscles there. “I don’t want to think about him,” she whispered.
A full two seconds later, his eyes focused square on hers. “Your wish is my command.”
His lips found hers again until he broke away to trail kisses down the center of her chest.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, unclasping her bra and drawing it away.
Maybe she had been okay with the full frontal display earlier this evening, but this entire situation? Too immediate. Too intense. Too much to process.
“Lights.” She gasped against his relentless mouth.
Like a man waking from a deep sleep, he blinked. “What?”
She blinked against the lamp’s glow. “Turn off the lights, please.”
A frown formed between his brows, but thank God he didn’t ask questions. “Whatever you want.” Moonlight filtered through the curtains, giving the room a soft, gray glow.
His hands roved over every inch of her skin, kneading, sliding, cupping her.
He laved and gently nipped at each nipple, driving her pleasure to insane heights. And, clever man, while he occupied his mouth with one breast, his rough fingers worked their magic on the other.
Then, thank you Jesus, he switched sides.
Desperate to touch more of him, she unbuttoned his shirt, dodging his dipped head and ignoring the growls when he had to stop his magic. No question, he loved her breasts. She squirmed. Holy mother of God, they loved what he was doing to them.
By evading his hands, she created enough space to strip off his shirt. The expanse of muscled chest, sprinkled with rough hair, invited her to explore.
He groaned when she licked his hot skin. Bracing his arms on either side of her head, he hovered with his torso in easy range of her lips. So helpful. Her lips feasted on the taste of his heated skin. After a gentle bite over a hard muscle, she flicked her tongue over his flat nipple. His breath caught, and he lowered his hips, grinding his pelvis into hers until she couldn’t distinguish her body from his.
She licked his other nipple; he reared up and drove his fingers beneath her jeans. In record time, he unbuttoned and pulled the garment down and away, leaving her in only her underwear.
Ugh. Had she known tonight would be filled with hot sex with a hard-bodied rancher, she would’ve chosen her foundation wear more carefully and changed from granny-panty cotton to a festive black thong. Her cheeks warmed, and she slid her hands down to cover herself.
“No way. That’s for me to enjoy.” The possessive male growl curled her toes. “You’re so damn sexy.” He slowly eased her hands to the sides, then ran his hand up her thigh until he cupped her core.
His dark eyes glittered in the filtered moonlight. Every nerve in her body vibrated with longing to contact every inch of him, inside and out.
She couldn’t move, held in place by that one big, warm hand. His skin was separated from her sensitive flesh by a mere scrap of fabric.
“Oh God, Garrison.”
