Page 9 of His Southern Temptation

“Stay with me.” Now she tasted him, punctuating her request with a small bite just below his ear, followed by a moist kiss to soothe the burn. He tasted so good—male, spicy, and accented by the tang of sweat. Her mouth watered as she mindlessly made her way to his mouth, unable to resist having more of what she’d sampled earlier on the parlor floor.

His lips were supple and open for her. Warm, wet mouth, tongue like velvet as it tangled with hers. The arousal from their earlier encounter was only a banked fire, never fully extinguished, and now it flared back to life, making her burn. Her knees gave out, and Taylor bunched his shirt in one hand, the other one hooking into the waistband of his jeans to keep her from sliding down to the ground. One touch of his hard body and she couldn’t resist exploring further, her fingers dipping down to trace the rigid length of his cock through the soft denim. He was hot, filling her palm with the weight of his desire.

The duffel bag hit the floor with a thud, freeing Lucky to weave his fingers in her hair, tugging gently to tilt her head at an angle to align their mouths better for a deeper, wetter kiss. This one was dark, filled with need and years of lust as he forcefully controlled the depth and pressure of the kiss—his passion taking it to the sharp edge of total possession. She whimpered, the sound echoing off the walls and matching the trembling in her body as she threw herself into this moment with the man who’d haunted her dreams for half her life.

She knew how good it was between them, and it made this all the hotter.

Lucky rotated them until the cool plaster of the wall was against her back, and the contrast made her shiver, but she didn’t stay cool for long. Her temperature shot up to fever levels once more when he pressed between her legs, roughly hoisting her a fraction higher so that his hard cock fit perfectly against her sex. She cried out at the impact, jolts of pleasure rocketing up her spine. It felt so good she had no choice but to grind back against him, her body seeking release and needing to make him just as crazy.

“Fuck, Tay. Are you trying to kill me tonight?” Lucky pulled back, his voice gruff and punctuated by rapid pants of air against her cheek. He also sounded angry, frustrated, and ready to explode. She knew exactly how to take care of that little problem.

“What? You worried a little girl is going to be the one to take down the big, bad Marine?”

He laughed. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Stay with me. Come to bed.”

No answer.

She wasn’t above cajoling. Begging was a different question, but cajoling she could do. “Come on. For old time’s sake.”

He sighed. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“You’re not supposed to think.” She trailed her hand down his chest, the pounding of his heart a tattoo against her palm. “Just a little fun between friends.”

“Just friends, huh? Are you sure about that?”

He lifted her hand to press a hot kiss to the palm, his tongue lingering on the sensitive spot in the middle. She shuddered under the press of his lips and the hot fire in his eyes. She’d seen that look before and it still scared her, made her nervous.

Something between them had shifted over time, becoming less about fun and games and more about the electric current of connection that stretched between the two of them like hot wire. She’d fought it. He’d appeared willing to explore it. She’d panicked. He’d left. Fast-forward two years to now.

The last thing she wanted was to get her foolish heart involved with this man. Love was fleeting; marriage and relationships devolved into humiliating compromise and pain. She’d learned that the hard way, firsthand and in graphic detail.

Definitely not on her agenda.

Unless it was mindless hours in bed, getting sweaty and exorcising this thing between them, she wasn’t interested. But it looked like Lucky was up for more, and they were once again at a possible impasse.

She sighed, stepping back to give them a little space.

“I can’t do this.” He motioned between them.

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Does it matter?” His tone was pure frustration, matching her mood as well.

“Yes, I think it does.”

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