Page 20 of Small Town Firsts
This woman wasn’t breakable or coy.
She was made for a man like me.
The flush raced up her neck and bloomed across her cheeks as she stared up at me.
I jerked her tighter against me and her lips parted. “You started this.”
Her gaze bounced from my eyes down to my mouth then back up. “You gonna finish it?”
My fingers moved down to dig into her hip, surprised she would own up to it. She’d been actively avoiding me for the last week.
Until today.
Of course I was the one to look for her earlier. Catching her mid-brainstorm when she was puzzling through the layout of the main dining area had been fascinating. I’d ducked in a few times to get a lay of the land but never managed to catch her alone.
She was always rushing around, giving orders, or on the damn phone. Always iPad at the ready as she put out fires with distributors, doing interviews for staff, or training those she’d already hired. Through it all, she was friendly and scarily proficient at damn near everything.
I was definitely in the way every time, which had me hightailing it back to my brewing barn. All day I’d tried to put her out of my mind.
It was getting harder every damn day.
And now she was in my arms—finally.
My thumb slid higher along her middle to dip under the cropped shirt. The cotton clung to her chest, outlining the lace underneath and the nipple tightening in reaction. To me or the cold water? I swiped under the heavy curve of her breast then coasted a little higher.
Her eyelids slid down, leaving a slit of gold as she watched me.
The gentlemanly part of me that my ma raised kicked at me to ask for permission. To beg for the right to touch her in the bright summer sun beating down on us in this space between our two worlds. The taproom she was working so hard to pull together and my brewing house that would pull in the people.
Was this the liminal space where we could be just us?
Or was this the space out of time, and we’d go back to our respective corners and forget it happened?
My cock hardened painfully, hampered by wet denim and apples, but no less eager to get her naked.
She swallowed hard and my gaze drifted to the wild fluttering of her pulse. I wanted that under my mouth as much as I wanted to see if her nipples were a soft pink or cinnamon dark.
Her breast filled my hand, firm and weighty. One swipe of my thumb and she let out a shaky breath. Another swipe and it hitched and stalled.
My other hand palmed her ass, lightly rocking our hips together. Her head dropped back, exposing that endless neck. A single chain glittered at her throat today.
I dipped my head to trace the tiny rubies clustered just above the notch of her collarbone. Salt and that rich moonflower scent lingered there.
And now apples.
My failed recipe clung to her skin, making it so much better in a way I didn’t want to examine too closely. I nosed my way up the column of her neck to scrape my teeth over her chin.
My beard left abrasions on her golden skin. Marks I ached to leave all over her.
There was no gentleness left in me, not when her nipple stabbed the center of my palm and her lips were so close to mine.
My thumb slid over the tip gently before I pinched it tight enough that she gasped. My other hand raced up her back tothe heavy tangle of hair knotted at the nape of her neck and anchored her to me as I finally took her mouth.
She tasted of sunshine and something citrusy and sharp laced with a groan I took inside of me to feed the beast I hadn’t expected to rage between us. The kiss held little finesse and all aggression.
For a moment, I thought I went too far.
She made a soft sound of surrender, then her arm came up around my neck and she was all in. We were a tangle of tongues and breath, lips and even teeth as we slanted first one way and the other to get the perfect combination.
