Page 90 of Need You Now

By eleven o’clock, after a hearty dinner of steaks, cherry pie, and many whiskeys by the fire, Seth goes to his room. Everyone else is off doing their own thing—Sal and Luke to bed. Emmy Lou, Jace, Griff and Alabama in the pool hall on the lower floor. He sits on the edge of the canopy bed, impatient, checking his phone for a text from Lacey. He’s crawling out of his skin. Staying away from her is torture. Flat-out torture.

He wants to kiss every square inch of her, fawn over her drop-dead gorgeous body. The strawberry birthmark on her hip bone that looks like a dewdrop, the sprinkle of freckles over the bridge of her nose, her tan sun-kissed legs, and her ocean-green eyes.

Standing, Seth lets out a growl, takes a pace across the room. He checks the time, wondering if he should go to her room, hell, if she’s even coming after the way he fucking ditched her tonight, and then—

The crack of the door.

Lacey slips inside, barefoot, clad in a long black silk robe, her blond hair spilling around her shoulder, curled from her braid, looking like the physical embodiment of a goddess.

His heart sparking, Seth shakes his head, grinning as he crosses the room toward Lacey. “Oh man, I am gonna kiss your face off.”

“You’re vile.” She smiles, placing her phone on the nightstand. “But me first.”

She’s moving and then they’re colliding like asteroids. Hot, crushing mouths, his hands in her hair, Lacey’s hands palming his face. Her kisses as frantic and as fumbling as his.

He walks her backward, trying to shed his boots, and instead ends up slamming her against the wall.

She gasps and he draws back, thinking he’s hurt her. But her green eyes glitter, feline. “Do it again.”

Hands shaking, he palms her shoulders and presses her back against the wall.

Hard. Firm.

Pinned.

Her nostrils flare. Her hands drift.

Seth’s dick flexes as Lacey peels his T-shirt from him, and then his pants. She cups his erection in her palm and he lets out a long hiss of appreciation.

“Let’s see what we got here,” Seth says, taking the belt of her robe in his hands. She stands, letting him, watching him heavy-lidded, as he tugs it away.

“Fuck.”

His voice—hoarse. Desperate.

She could gut him, the way she’s looking right now.

Lacey’s got on a shimmering, sheer black bustier top that hugs her toned waist, complete with garters, thigh highs, and a lace thong.

“You tryin’ to kill me?” he asks, his voice a growl.

She arcs a sassy brow. “Now who’s bitching at me to pack warmer clothes?”

Seth dips down, taking her breast in his mouth, sucking at the hard bud through the lace of her top. He slides the tip of his tongue across her nipple. A needy whimper comes from Lacey. Knees buckling, she sags in his arms at the sensation, her eyelashes fluttering.

Bracing her against the wall, Seth goes lower. He slides a hand up her toned leg, his fingers dipping into her through the edge of her panties. Christ. A low moan rips out of him. She’s so wet. And he can feel her down below, slick, warm, her body pulsing out a melody to his touch. The only fucking melody he wants in his life.

Lacey.

Always.

His whole heart is in this.

So why the fuck can’t he tell her he loves her?

The shudder of Lacey’s body returns his attention to her. Her slender frame trembles, little gasps of air heating the space between them.

He can’t wait another damn second. He tears at her underwear, yanking it free.

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