Page 63 of Reckless Hearts

Maverick

Am I dead?Did I finally get stomped by a bull and this is the afterlife?

Water trails down Callie’s back, along the ridge of her spine, leading straight to her see-through panties. The thin fabric clings to her ass, the tan of her skin showing through. If that wasn’t enough to drown me, one side is riding up, revealing the entire curve of one cheek.

My rock-hard cock’s the only thing stopping me from chasing after her, forcing me to tread water if I don’t want Callie to see exactly what she’s doing to me.

Her ass is so fucking delicious I want to sink my teeth where it creases into her thigh. Fill my palms with the smooth globes, spread them apart

She bends over to pick up her dress, and a whimper catches in my throat.

The pink outline of her pussy’s displayed through her translucent panties…

“Fuck,” Colt grunts, his eyes hot on her, mouth open wide enough it’s a miracle he’s not drooling.

That settles the afterlife question.

Clearly, I’m in hell if this asshole’s beside me.

He’s too distracted to notice the way he’s edging closer, how his arm keeps brushing mine again and again, like he’s testing how much I’ll take.

Each graze lights me up, a pulse of heat chasing every nerve ending, my skin prickling like it’s starving for more.

I wait for the disgust. The revulsion.

Wait for the urge to shove him off, dunk his smug face under water, and hold it there.

But I don’t move.

I can’t.

The sinking sun throws shadows across his face, his wet hair slicked back, droplets carving slow trails down his neck, over his collarbone, disappearing into the water.

And his eyes… even in the dark, I can feel the intensity in them fixed on her like she’s the only thing tethering him to the surface.

That hunger, that desperation. It’s radiating off him in waves, and his own hard-on’s the only thing keeping him submerged.

“What the hell are you looking at?” Colt jerks back, face scrunched up in disgust.

My stomach twists, turning my gut into knots as the revulsion I was looking for finally settles where it belongs.

“Get your moaning under control,” I mutter, turning back to Callie.

She’s pulling her dress over her head, and I enjoy the way Colt sputters.

From his lack of response, he must not be sure if he really was moaning.

What would that even sound like?

A low, guttural groan, or would he release a high-pitched keen, the kind that begs to be fucked?

The hem of Callie’s dress drops to her thigh, and I can finally inhale.

She knocks the breath from my lungs without even trying.

She’s always stunning, but when she turns back my way, her beaming smile slams into me, punches straight into my ribs, and grips my pounding heart.

She’s practically glowing, pouring her warmth into me, filling me up until it feels like I’m going to explode.

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