Page 41 of The Rookie
I walk us back—three steps—until her back meets the wall of the chicken coop. I’m sure she can feel the situation below my belt, but Summer’s only response is more kissing. It’s a scenario I’m very much okay with.
Moonlight paints us in a hazy glow. While being pressed up against the side of a chicken coop is probably the least sexy thing ever, neither of us seem to care.
She makes a needy sound in the back of her throat, somewhere between a whine and pure want. It sparks something inside me, and I bring one hand under the edge of her sweatshirt, my knuckles tracing the soft skin of her stomach.
Breaking our connection, I press my forehead to hers. “You’re dangerous.”
“So are you.”
I know what she means, this burning attraction that neither of us seem capable of resisting.
Being near her—there’s something about it. Something risky. It’s like my libido has magically rebooted. Not just rebooted, but roared to life with a hunger more potent than I’ve ever experienced before.
I press my mouth to hers again as my hand travels north. Palming the weight of her breast earns me another of those moans that I’m quickly growing fond of.
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” Her voice is sure. Steady.
Her skin is so soft and warm, and I’m lost to her kisses. When my fingers skim down to the waistband of her leggings, she makes a breathless sound.
“Can I touch you?” I murmur with my mouth still on hers.
“Yes.” Her voice is a whisper, but there’s no uncertainty in her tone.
With my pulse thundering, I press my hand lower, beneath the elastic of her leggings and panties. I bite back a groan when I feel how warm and wet she is.
It triggers something inside me.
As she grips my shirt to haul me closer, my fingers slide over silken flesh until Summer is trembling and gasping in my arms. I love touching her like this, making her feel good.
A few minutes later, the air around us shifts. She’s close. I feel it the second she lets go and begins to come undone. Everything south of my navel twitches with satisfaction. It’s beautiful watching her overcome with her release.
But I barely have time to savor it, because I hear the rustle of footsteps on fallen leaves. Summer’s eyes snap open to meet mine.
“Hurry,” is the only word I get out before I begin pulling her along the path back into the darkness toward the cabins.
When we reach mine, I twist the doorknob and she follows me inside—no invite necessary. It seems she’s as eager to pick back up where we left off as I am.
We slip off our boots at the rug by the door, and I tip her chin up to meet my gaze. Her shaky smile grows, and then we’re both laughing.
I rub a hand through my hair. “Sorry. I guess I got carried away back there ...”
But I don’t get to finish my apology because Summer’s mouth is on mine.
I kiss her back like my life depends on it, and maybe it does, because I’ve never felt this good, this free with anyone else ever before.
Breaking away briefly, I ask, “Will you stay?”
She nods once in understanding. This moment is too real, too perfect to just brush aside.
My hand slides from her hair to the column of her graceful neck, then her shoulder, and I enjoy the feel of soft cotton beneath my fingertips. Summer wets her lower lip with the tip of her tongue. Her mouth is beautiful, and wicked thoughts dance through my head.
My hand slides lower until it comes to rest on her lower back. The movement thrusts her forward slightly, and her soft curves graze my chest, my abdomen, and lower—where surely she can feel how hard I am beneath my jeans. She responds with a tiny shiver.
I can’t help it ... all the crackling electricity between us has me eager and aching. Tugging her over to the couch, I sink onto it with her. The cabin is dim, lit only by the light above the kitchen sink, which casts broad shadows, and little flickers of glowing orange from the embers in the woodstove.
Summer settles into my lap. We grind together and kiss, both of us willing to pretend—at least for now—that this isn’t a dangerous game.
