Читать книгу Bedded then Wed - Heidi Betts - Страница 8

Even as he half-dragged Emma out of the Silver Spur and across the gravel parking lot, Mitch called himself seven kinds of fool.

He’d purposely brought her here, knowing the bar would be noisy and crowded. Knowing there would be no chance of him being overcome by lust and making a move on her.

Ha! So much for that theory. His brilliant plan had backfired almost at the speed of light.

It had started innocently enough. Sit at the bar, sip a beer. The decibel level of the music and surrounding conversations made small talk impossible, which he considered a good thing.

But then he’d gone and asked her to dance. What a colossal mistake.

What had he been thinking? If he was going to make such a blunder, he could have at least made the offer during a fast song or while people were two-stepping in a synchronized group.

But, no, he’d gone and asked her to dance to a slow song. One that required them to stand close, to touch just about everywhere.

And he’d willingly taken her into his arms, set them both to swaying. Only when he felt her breasts with their semierect peaks brushing against his chest had he realized he was in trouble.

But by then, it had been too late. The scent of her freshly washed hair and spicy floral perfume had invaded his nostrils. The brush of her hands and belly and hips had turned him hard in an instant.

And despite his best efforts to maintain control, to cool his jets and remind himself that he’d promised he wouldn’t sleep with her again, he found himself leaning in and asking her to leave with him.

To hell with their drinks. To hell with his vow to keep things platonic. He wanted her…now, with a single-minded determination that made him feel like a bull charging a red flag.

Their feet crunched on the gravel of the parking lot as he led her to the pickup and lifted her inside. Slamming the door, he stalked around the front of the truck and climbed behind the wheel.

Before the sound of his door closing had finished echoing through the cab, he was on her. Reaching out, dragging her across the vinyl seat and kissing her senseless. His hands were everywhere, groping, yanking, tearing her clothes away so he could get to her naked flesh.

She tasted of the beer she’d drunk earlier but also like Emma. Sweet, womanly, innocent.

Her lips met his, matched him move for move as though she could read his mind. Her tongue teased and tangled, parried when he thrust and thrust when he parried.

And her hands…her hands were at the buttons of his shirt, the belt at his waist, every bit as eager to strip him bare as he was to do the same to her.

Her willingness, her eagerness drove him, let him know he wasn’t the only one raging with passion, scrambling to get closer, faster, now, now.

He let her push the shirt off his shoulders and fumble with his heavy busting bronco belt buckle while he yanked her denim skirt up around her hips. He whispered a prayer of thanks when he discovered only a pair of sheer panties, with no stockings to bar his way, and wasted no time shucking them down her slim legs.

She had his belt undone by then and was working on the button and zipper of his jeans. He released her long enough to cover her hands and help her along.

As soon as he was free, hard and aching, he stopped, took a deep breath, lifted his head and looked into her eyes. She was staring back, chest heaving, her expression one of impatience and longing.

He felt like he should say something…compliment her, tell her she was beautiful or he cared about her. But he couldn’t think of a damn thing that wouldn’t sound fake or forced, and his mouth was full of cotton, anyway.

So he scrapped the idea of trying to be romantic or chivalrous and simply leaned in to take her lips. She kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and weaving her fingers through his hair.

Keeping his mouth firmly on hers, he laid her back along the seat of the cab and knelt between her legs. A small shift of her skirt and his pants, and he was inside her.

She was gloriously tight and wet and felt like heaven. He let out a groan of pleasure, resting his brow against hers for a moment until his breathing and heartbeat returned to normal. Well, as normal as they were likely to get when he was this close to Emma, this close to pure bliss.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice strained. He sensed rather than saw her nod and felt her slick inner muscles tighten around him in assent.

It was all he could do not to moan in sweet agony.

She was amazing. Open and eager. Fluid and graceful, but at the same time wild and uninhibited.

Holding her was like holding a live wire. And that charge, that jolt of high-voltage electricity, rocked him to his core.

He’d been celibate ever since he found out Suzanne was cheating on him, so it was no small wonder he was ravenous for a woman’s touch. It had almost been easier to simply grit his teeth and white-knuckle his way through the lack of sex in his life.