Page 6 of Average Joe

“Why?” He huffed. “Because you’re beautiful. And I want to bury my grief in those gorgeous curves.”

I downed my glass in one swallow. “You’re drunk.”

“So are you. And you’re still sitting there. And you’re licking those lips, staring at me like I’m about to be your next meal.”

Stupid liquor. I gave him my standard response. “I can’t get involved with a criminal.”

His face reddened, muscles bunched. “I’m not asking for your heart. Just need to get lost in a soft body for a while.”

I respected his honesty.

Call it bad judgment, loneliness, grief, whatever, but I craved a physical connection. To be touched, noticed… needed, maybe.

I wanted to bury my pain, too.

And damn, there went my tongue again, sweeping between my lips.

One second, Joe was seated across the table; the next, he towered over me, hands in my hair, tongue tangled with mine and, God bless the man, he kissed like an awkward teen, big and sloppy and desperate. He didn’t take long to find his rhythm, though, and when he relaxed? Sweet coffee with cream, that man savored my mouth like making out was his only care in the world. One hand wandered down my back, then lower still, and without breaking contact, he scooped me off the chair and dropped me on top of the table. His hips split my thighs wide, forcing the hem of my dress to my hips.

The man was strong, and he seemed to vibrate with need, every inch of his hardened body taut to the point of snapping.

Aching to hurry the pace and starving for a distraction from the sadness, I raised my fingers to his tie and made quick work of undoing the knot and discarding the damn thing.

He yanked at theVof my wrap dress, exposing my lace bra, and cupped my breast, rubbing his strong thumb in a slow circle over my hardening peak.

His buttons proved troublesome. Frenzied, I ripped the shirt open down the middle, desperate to get to the brutal heat hiding beneath the fabric.

Joe stepped back, shrugging out of his sleeves, and ditched the barrier somewhere over his shoulder. His gaze bounced from my boobs to my mouth, his cheeks flushed, lips parted and wet.

His chest rose and fell. “I haven’t been with a woman in ages.”

“Been a while for me, too.” I snatched the bottle of gin, took a swig, then offered him another drink.

“Got a lot of pent-up energy.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, paused, and said, “Soft and sweet won’t be an option.”

I leaned back on my arms and raised an eyebrow, ignoring the fuzzy tingles clouding my vision. “That a challenge?”

“Shit.” Two deep dimples appeared before he took a long draw from the bottle. “You’re perfect.”

He came at me, rushed and clumsy. One thousand pounds of virile male, unbridled, unleashed, and un-freaking-believable.

* * *

“Rise and shine, sleeping beauty.”

Despite the rich timbre of his voice, every syllable hammered spikes into my skull.

The sheets rubbed my skin like sandpaper. I moved to kick them off, my blood going cold when my feet hit something hard and hairy.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

The bed bounced. Warm flesh poked my backside, and a heavy arm lopped around my waist, fingers splaying over my stomach.

I held my breath, praying the beast would go back to sleep.

His chest rose and fell. A gentle tug, and our bodies were flush, melded together, back to chest, ass to groin.

Heat rushed through me. Dear Lord, the man was huge. And not just the part of his anatomy nestled against my butt crack.

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