Page 63 of Grit
She pushed open the door, Cary’s heat at her back, and flipped on the single light, which was nothing more than a bare bulb at the far end of the structure.
“So… this is the bunkhouse.”
“Nice.” Cary put his hands on her waist and spun her around. He backed her up to a sturdy dresser on the far wall until she bumped into it. “Tell me more.”
She hitched her hips up on the edge of the dresser, and Cary stepped between her legs. “Uh… planning to take out half the bunks, shore up the others, and add a queen bed on…”
She couldn’t concentrate when he nudged her chin up and started kissing her neck. Her heart was racing. She put her hand on his shoulders to steady herself.
“Where’s the bed going to go?” His hands had landed on her hips, and his fingers flexed as if he was testing the give of her body.
“Far wall. Opposite corner. Thought I’d give parents… ah.” Her nipples went hard when one hand skimmed along the edge of her breast. “Um… privacy. Parents need privacy.”
“I totally agree,” he murmured a second before his lips landed on hers.
The sound she made was halfway between a moan and a sigh. Kissing Cary was like sinking into a pool on a hot day. His lips were full and firm, moving expertly over her mouth. She didn’t feel nervous anymore. She hooked an arm around his neck and pulled him closer, reveling in the tight control she felt in his body.
He wanted her, but he couldn’t have her. Not yet. He was letting her have the reins.
She’d forgotten what it felt like to hold that draw for a man. She was heady with it, full of the knowledge of how his body felt against hers and how her body was responding and welcoming him.
It was a delicious, decadent hunger to want Cary this way. To crave his kisses and the sound of his voice when his lips were against her skin.
He kissed her neck, the edge of her jaw, the sensitive skin behind her ear, her collarbone. He dipped his tongue in the hollow between her breasts and ran it up her neck until his mouth met hers again.
Melissa hooked her fingers in his belt and tugged him closer, eager to feel the hard press of his erection between her thighs. She didn’t want sex—didn’t feel ready for that—but she was imagining what it would be like with Cary.
Would she still know what to do? It would be different with him, but the basics were the same. Would her body respond the same way?
Cary’s hands had been still, firm but unmoving. One at the small of her back. One on the curve of her hip.
Melissa pulled away from his mouth. “Touch me,” she whispered.
“I am touching you.”
“Touch me more.”
He froze, let out a rough breath, and his lips landed on hers again. He moved impossibly closer, and the hand that had been on the small of her back moved to her side.
He cupped her breast, teasing the nipple hidden beneath her dress and bra. “Like this?”
She nodded and kept kissing him. She was addicted to his mouth. And maybe his hands too, because that thumb was criminally talented.
The hand at her hip began massaging her thigh.
“Your hands are so strong.” Her eyes rolled back, just from the feel of his fingers on the bare skin of her thigh.
“My hands are very strong.” He bit her lower lip. “But don’t worry. They know what they’re doing.”
The tips of his fingers were callused but smooth. Was it the rock climbing? Nothing was rough about them. She’d been expecting rough.
The thumb on her breast didn’t stop, and the hand teasing her inner thigh moved higher.
“Like this?” he whispered against her lips.
All Melissa could do was nod.
“How about this?” His fingers teased higher, but not as high as Melissa wanted.
