Page 11 of Bolt To Me
The song on the square was still curling through the air like smoke, low and molten, wrapping around them with invisible fingers. Carli’s pulse matched its sway, deep and slow, as Cory’s palm pressed lightly at the small of her back. They weren’t rushing, weren’t speaking much at all. They were letting the heat rise between them with every minute they stayed close. The lanterns above shifted in the wind, sending shadows sliding like dark silk across his cheekbones.
The crowd had melted to a distant blur. Here, it was only him. His chest against hers when he pulled her in a little closer for the next slow turn, the faint rasp of his breath mingling with hers, the subtle firmness of his hand gliding over her hip. He didn’t grope. He didn’t push. He drew her in like the tide, inevitable, patient, impossible to resist.
At one turn, her temple brushed his jaw, and she felt the heat of him, the scent of cedar, and the ghost of his cologne teasing her senses. She found herself leaning into it, savoringthe unspoken challenge in his stillness. She shifted her palm slightly over his chest, feeling the rhythmic beat beneath, steady at first but quickening when her fingers trailed lightly up to his collarbone.
“You keep doing that,” he murmured against her ear, the words brushing her skin like a touch. “And I’m not making it through this dance.”
She didn’t stop. Her nails scratched lightly through the cotton of his shirt, and he inhaled sharply. His other hand, the one holding hers, shifted their joined fingers lower, until her knuckles skimmed the edge of his belt.
The next slow spin brought her flush against him again. This time she felt the full press of his body, his thigh sliding between hers, the deliberate shift of his hips. Her breath stuttered, and his smirk was subtle but unmistakable. “Carli,” he said, low and rough.
Her answer was a faint, daring tilt of her chin. “Take me home, Cory.”
The guesthouse door was barely closed when his back hit it, her mouth on his before he could even get a word out. It wasn’t neat; it was hungry, a kiss that tasted like stolen fruit. His hands tangled in her hair, one arm locking around her waist and hauling her tightly to him as he stepped forward, guiding her to the bedroom, pressing her back against the door in turn, his hand fumbling at the doorknob.
She could feel the vibration of his voice in his chest when he growled softly between kisses. His mouth moved from hers to her jaw, dragging lower to the sensitive skin just beneath her ear, tasting her there with slow, claiming passes of his tongue. Her head tipped back instinctively, baring her throat, and he took it like an invitation.
His hands began to explore in earnest now. One traced the length of her spine, fingertips grazing along every ridgeuntil they reached the curve above her hips, where his thumbs pressed, circling. The other hand slid up, skimming her ribs, brushing the side of her breast just enough to make her gasp against his neck.
He pulled back just enough to look at her, breathing harder, eyes darkened and sharp with focus. “You want slow,” he murmured. It was not a question. It was an observation.
“Yes,” she breathed, though she was already trembling under his touch.
His lips returned to hers, but softer now, teasing at the seam of her mouth until she opened to him willingly. His tongue swept in, unhurried, tasting her deeply before retreating to let her chase him back. He seemed to take a kind of pleasure in making her lean into him, in keeping her hungry.
Her hands moved over him as if mapping him for the first time. She slid them up his chest, over his shoulders, then down his arms, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way they flexed when he shifted. She hooked her fingers into the edge of his shirt and tugged, pulling it free from his jeans slowly, deliberately, revealing warm, tanned skin inch by inch.
He let her strip it from him, then returned the favor with her sundress. But he didn’t just pull it off. He traced the straps first, fingertips gliding over her shoulders, thumbs stroking the soft skin there before sliding them down her arms. The dress sagged, loosening, and he caught the fabric at her hips to let it fall the rest of the way, pooling around her ankles in a lazy whisper.
She stood before him in the lamplight, and his gaze roamed her slowly, reverently. He stepped forward, hands spanning her waist, then gliding upward until his thumbs brushed just beneath the swell of her breasts. He didn’t take more. He let his hands hover there, feeling the quickened beat of her heart under his thumbs.
Her breath caught, her body arching toward him without thought. He rewarded her with a kiss to her collarbone, then another lower, between the curve of her breasts, lingering there while his hands slid higher to cup them fully at last. His palms were warm, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they pebbled beneath his touch, and she made a small, involuntary sound that he swallowed with another kiss.
“Cory…” It came out half-whisper, half-plea.
He smiled against her skin. “Not yet.” And then he proved it. He backed her slowly toward the bed, but not to lie her down. He sat, pulling her gently into his lap, her knees bracketing his hips. The position pressed them close in a way that made her pulse hammer in her ears. His hands explored her thighs, his thumbs stroking upward to the lace edge of her panties, tracing there but not venturing further. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, nails leaving faint marks as she rocked against him without thinking. His breath hissed in, sharp, and his hands tightened on her thighs. “You’re killing me,” he murmured.
“Good,” she whispered, and kissed him again, this one deep and demanding.
It took another long, heated minute before he stood, still holding her against him. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he turned to the bed. This time when he lowered her onto the sheets, he followed her down, his mouth and hands everywhere at once, kissing, tasting, teasing, until she was trembling and gasping beneath him, every nerve awake, every inch of her primed for more. And only then, after he’d coaxed her to the very edge of madness, did he finally give her what they’d both been waiting for.
“Stay right there,” he growled playfully. He stood and pulled off his boots, letting them drop to the floor with a thud. Then, slowly and teasingly, he unbuckled his belt, then his jeans. He couldn’t resist grinning at her as he slowly pulled the zipperdown. He paused when she propped herself up on her elbows. “You said you wanted it slow.”
“Cory,” Carli breathed in exasperation.
He hooked his thumbs in the belt loops of the blue Wranglers and pulled them down, stepping out of them and standing there, hands on his hips. There was no doubt he was aroused by the way his boxer briefs bulged. He wiggled his eyebrows at her as he ran his hand over the bulge.
“Cory!”
He laughed and finished undressing. When Cory’s weight came down over her on the bed, it was with the quiet inevitability of a wave curling over the shore, slow, unstoppable, heavy with promise. The lamp’s honey gold light caressed every curve and shadow, gilding the taut lines of his body as he lowered himself between her knees. His palms slid up the inside of her thighs, warm and certain, until the heat of his hands was barely an inch from the ache that had been building in her for what felt like hours.
He kissed her again, mouth lingering on hers with deep, deliberate sweeps of his tongue that made her toes curl against the sheets. His lips left hers to find her jaw, then the hollow just below her ear, lower still, tracing slow, reverent paths down the column of her throat. She felt each press of his mouth like an ember on her skin, the weight of his body pressing her gently but firmly into the mattress.
One hand slid around her hip, fingers slipping under the band of her panties. He didn’t pull them away immediately. Instead, he toyed there, fingertips brushing teasing circles just at the edge, making her thighs shift restlessly around him. His other hand cupped the side of her face, tilting her head so he could kiss her again, deep and consuming, swallowing the small, needy sounds she couldn’t hold back.
When he finally eased the last bit of fabric from her body, he moved back just enough to look at her, his gaze raking over her slowly like he was memorizing her in the lamplight. His breath came heavier now, chest rising and falling with the effort of restraint. “You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmured, voice low and almost rough.
His mouth followed the line of her collarbone to the swell of her breast, kissing and teasing until her back arched and she tangled her fingers in his hair. His tongue traced slow circles over her nipple, then sucked lightly until she gasped, a sharp pulse of heat shooting low in her belly. He switched to the other, giving it equal attention, hands spreading over her ribcage as if to feel her reactions in his palms.
