Page 27 of Driving Him Wild

I wanted to lick him all over. Then devour him in large, choking chunks.

The strength of that need alarmed me. But the sight of him on his knees, ready to surrender to me,

overpowered the apprehension.

I was a grown woman, perfectly ripe for my first one-night stand in a tent somewhere in the Arctic

Circle if I wished it. Empowered by the thought, I cupped his strong jaw, leaned down and pressed an open-mouthed kiss to his lips. Before the flames could leap out of control, I eased away, walked past him to where the sleeping bag was laid out.

Like everything else around here, it held a chill as I lay back on it, but it warmed quickly. I let out a pleased sigh, watched as he swivelled to follow my movement, kicking away his suit as he did.

I beckoned him with a finger, and he rose.

He was gorgeous. Built like a true Viking with thick thighs, chiselled calves and lean hips, he was fantasy made flesh.

A fantasy I intended to make reality before the night was over.

‘Come and show me what else those talented hands are capable of,’ I invited sultrily, moving my

arms to rest them above my head.

‘Just my hands?’ he asked, his voice a thick rasp.

‘No, Mr Scott. Not just your hands. Every inch of that delicious body is definitely on my to-do list.’

My fingers brushed the side of the tent, and the brief contact with the cold sent a delicious shiver through me, making my nipples harder.

He groaned, then, erupting into movement, he dropped onto the sleeping bag, dark blue eyes

devouring me as he started to reach for me.

‘Wait.’

He stilled, his nose flaring in the silence I let drag out for several seconds.

‘The beanie. Take it off. I want to see your hair.’

The white cap—he really had a thing for white, didn’t he?—slid off easily, and I suppressed a

groan. Hell, even his hair was magnificent. Burnt gold, threaded with hints of dark honey, it was

enough to make a woman weep with envy. And a shampoo manufacturer scream with joy. But it was

still tied at the back of his neck.

‘All of it, Jensen.’

With an impatient tug, he freed the length from the simple elastic band. My breath caught as the

heavy mass fell over one shoulder. With movements that were perfunctory rather than exhibitionist, he dragged his fingers through the thick strands, tossing them off his neck. They fell well below his

shoulders. And while I wasn’t into the whole man-bun craze, I couldn’t deny there was something

wildly sexy about a guy with the confidence to wear his hair this long.

Eyes darkened with arousal raked over my body again, unfettered lust parting his lips. ‘What do

you want,min elskerinde?’

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