Page 42 of Christmas at Hart's Ridge

He looked up at me, his hot gaze branding me like a physical touch. “No, Red. I’m going to ruin you for all other men.”

Oh, god. I wanted that. I didn’t care if it meant I had to spend the rest of my life in a nunnery as penance, I wanted that.

“Tonight,” I demanded.

He rose to his feet, his hands skimming my legs from ankles to hips as he went. He gave my bare waist a gentle squeeze. “You have no idea how much I want that. But it’s nearly three a.m., it’s been a very long day, and you had your first shot of whiskey, and it was a double. Trust me when I say you’re not as ready to go as you think you are. Not for all the things I have planned for you.”

Before I could convince him otherwise, he stepped away, moving to the dresser. He pulled out a tee shirt and tossed it to me. “There’s a new toothbrush under the sink. You can have it.”

I still had arguments to make, but I could probably make those better with clean teeth and fewer clothes. I hustled into the bathroom. When I returned a few minutes later, with fresh breath and wearing his tee shirt that hit me mid-thigh, Luke was half reclined on the bed, leaning against the headboard, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

Wearing nothing but a pair of navy-blue boxer briefs.

I tried not to salivate too obviously.

Luke pulled back the covers invitingly. “Hit the light, Red.”

I swallowed hard. Was this really happening? Was I really and truly going to spend the night with Luke Buchanan?

Andnothave sex, apparently, which seemed like a physical impossibility to me.

I flipped off the light and dashed to the bed, scrambling under the covers for warmth. And also maybe a little because I was feeling awkward and vulnerable. And a whole lot because that’s where Luke happened to be.

But he made his intentions clear by grabbing hold of me and rolling me onto my side, facing away from him. He pulled me against him, my back to his front, and curled me into his warm body. I sighed and wiggled closer, a futile attempt to relax.

Because my ass was met with what was very obviously a hard dick.

I let out a mortifying squeak like the goddamn virgin I was.

“Ignore that,” Luke murmured. “Get some sleep, Red.”

“How?” I demanded. “How do you expect me to sleep like this? I’m all—” I fluttered my hands, lacking the words to adequately describe the depths of my sexual frustration. Words I was willing to say out loud, anyway.

I could feel his body shake with silent laughter. Then he sighed and nipped the curve where my neck met my shoulder with his teeth. “That’s no good, honey. Let me take the edge off.” His voice wrapped around me like a warm blanket.

And then I felt his hand trace the curve of my hip. He grabbed the hem of my tee shirt—histee shirt, but good luck getting it back, he could pry it from my cold, dead body—and worked it up to my waist. I held my breath as he ran his thumb over the waistband of my underwear. It tickled a little but I was scared to make a sound, scared to move, in case it dissuaded him from…whatever it was he was about to do.

Sweet mercy, his fingers dipped inside. Not very far, only a couple inches before they were thwarted by my clamped thighs.

“Let me in, Red,” he husked, every bit the Big Bad Wolf up to no good.

Except I knew it would be very, very good. Even knowing nothing about this at all, I knew that. He would make this good for me.

I lifted my top leg, but not enough for his liking, apparently, because he lifted it higher and then settled it on his own thigh.

His hand now had the freedom to move deeper and he took full advantage of that, sliding down to cup my pussy with his hand, cradling me snugly as though I were something precious. For a long moment he didn’t move, just stayed exactly like that, the heel of his palm resting lightly against my clit, the tip of his middle finger barely grazing my opening, where I suddenly felt hollow and achy with the need to be filled.

When I couldn’t take another second, I tilted my hips, pushing myself into his hand. Like he was waiting for exactly that, he finally started to move. One finger pressed deeper between my folds and he dragged it slowly from my entrance to my clit, spreading moisture as he went.

“Fuck, you’re wet. You’re so fucking wet, Red.” His voice came low and drugged. “Is this for me? Did thinking of my cock filling you here make you wet?”

I tried to speak but the only thing that came out was a strangled moan.

“I want the words, Red. I want to hear you say it so damn bad. Tell me who all this wetness is for.”

“You,” I gasped out. “It’s for you.”

“That’s my good girl,” he said, and no accolade had ever made me prouder.

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