Page 18 of Sawyer

I wonder if that’s what makes our attraction so intense—the fact that it’s ardently, unequivocally reciprocated. It feels like lightning. We’re not hooking up because we’re bored and it’s convenient.

We’re on fire, and the only way to put it out is to surrender to the wildness between us.

This.

This is what’s been missing.

Pulse hammering, I glide both hands inside her shirt and cup her tits. I play with them, kneading their softness, thumbing her nipples. Ava arches her back, burying her ass inside the cradle of my hips.

My dick surges. I work my mouth up her neck. Back down, stopping to press a lingering kiss on the place where her throat slopes into her shoulder.

“Oh, Sawyer,” she breathes. “I like that.”

“You smell like heaven.”

She’s smiling. “It’s the beer. And the sweat.”

“Apparently”—I rock my hips, pressing my dick into the small of her back—“I dig the combination.”

Reaching back, she cups me through my jeans. “You’re kidding.”

“Not one fucking bit.”

“I’m talking aboutthis.” She moves her palm up my length. “You’re hot. You can dance.Andyou have a big dick?”

My turn to laugh as I scrape my stubble against her throat, giving her nipples a quick, hard pinch. “I didn’t see any lube downstairs. I can look for some?—”

“Don’t. I’m … yeah, I’m definitely not gonna need it.”

“Really?”

She scoffs. “Really.”

“Show me.”

She turns her head and glances at me over her shoulder. “Okay.”

I bite back a curse when she takes my right hand and guides it down. Eyes locked on mine the whole time. When we hit the fly of her jeans, she presses my fingers against the button. I take the hint and work it through its hole. Her zipper moves south as she pushes our hands inside.

Her green eyes go a little hazy when, together, we move our hands inside her panties. I feel the wiry warmth of her pubic hair before she guides our hands even lower. I don’t wait for her to guide me here. I can’t. I use my first and third fingers to part her. I can already feel her heat. Then I gently guide my middle finger inside.

She. Is.Soaked.

So swollen and slick that my fingertip glides easily through her arousal. I give her a soft stroke front to back. Back to front, pausing to circle her clit.

Her whole body jerks. “Oh, yes.Yes.”

The oxygen in the room must evaporate, because suddenly I can’t breathe. “For me. This is?—”

“All for you.” Her eyes bore into mine, all earnestness. “C’mon, Sawyer, I told you you were hot.”

I puff out my chest a little, knowing I have that kind of power. Me, the guy who twenty-four hours ago couldn’t beg, borrow, or steal his way into convincing his three-year-old to get dressed for school.

Me, the guy who hasn’t felt wanted like this in … a long-ass time.

Me.

I don’t think. I don’t hesitate.

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