Page 23 of Feverburn

Roisin: Looking forward to it.

Later, she sent the sexiest selfie that damn near melted my brain. My jaw fell as my cock rose. I shoved my face into my pillow, fighting to drive back into town to see her. I also resisted theurgeto jack off andlostthat fight completely.

Throughout the night, I would wake up thinking she was next to me, only to realize I was alone, but I could have sworn on some level we were communicating. Dreamtalking? I’m sure she had some mystical word for it. All I knew was I had a vivid dream of peering up at her beautiful face between her soft thighs. Her jaw slacked with silent cries. Then the visions morphed to her bracing herself over me, stroking my cock with her delicate tattooed fingers, then finally, flickers of her hair like flames strewn across my chest while I held her, both of us panting in bliss.

By morning, I knew one thing for sure—this dream had to become a reality.

Chapter Ten

I found a book leaning against my front door when I got home late. I picked it up, examining the cover with a bird flying with a matchstick in its beak. I snorted in amusement after reading the titleStill Life With WoodpeckerbyTom Robbins. A light gray bookmark stuck out. I turned to the page it was marking, spotting a sentence underlined.

Red hair is caused by sugar andlust.

I smiled stupidly at the quote, knowing exactly who did this. I clutched the book to my chest, then opened it again to reread the line.

Sugar andlust.Yep. Those two things were fueling me at this point in life.

The bookmark was from All Booked Up. As I turned it over, a hyper-realistic eye stared back at me. It was surrounded by swirling vines and roses. It looked too familiar. Running with a hunch, I opened my front door, flopping my purse on my pub table while rushing to the bathroom. I held up the bookmark to my face, and there it was, an exact depiction of my left eye. The shape and size, even the noticeable fleck just under my pupil. The flare of my eyelashes and the gentle arch of my eyebrow. My mouth opened in wonder as I continued to gawk at it. Carson had somehow committed my eyes to memory. I was flattered and a little lightheaded.

I tucked it in the book, forcing myself to put it down. Then I strippedfor a bath, needing to get the stench of furniture polish and glass cleaner off me from work. A coppery shimmer caught my eye as it streaked across my hip bone, almost to my belly button. It was Carson’s mark. I stared at it in the mirror longer than I should have, loving it too much.

As my fingers feathered over it, my mind flooded with images of how I’d like Carson to claim me—like asearingkissor his lips covering my breasts before his teeth gently grazed just enough to make me whimper, or the rush of ournakedbodies pressed together as he filled me up.

My fingers moved lower as I thought about how his hands gently and patiently stroked art into existence and how, on some level, I knew he’d gently and patiently stroke me. His deep hum when he took the first sip of coffee would probably be the same noise he’d make if I wrapped my lips around his cock.

I jumped when my phone pinged with a message from an unsaved contact. I wiggled, saving his number in my phone and adding a little axe emoji next to the name of my new favorite mountain man.

Carson: Hey Rosie, how’s my favorite bog witch doing?

I fought astupidgrin.

Me: Heyyy, just washing off paint some guy marked on my hip bone while I was at work—the audacity.

Carson: I needed my mark on you.

My pussy clenched at his dominance. I immediately shot off my first thought.

Me: Good, because I like your mark on me.

I stared at my whorish text in disbelief. What was this man doing to me?

Carson: Get used to it.

I held the phone to my chest.Oh, no, he didn’t!Needing to stop before I was outright having phonesex, I made an out for myself.

Me: Looking forward to it.

I got in the bath with my new book, which was an ode to redheads. I liked how his mind worked if this indicated his inner world.

Fully relaxed, my thoughts drifted to myintenseattraction to him. Beyond the carnaldesireand cerebral connection, this man tugged at myheart. I was rooting for him. He was on the wrong side of a shitty situation he had no control over. The town ousted him for loving a woman who cheated on him. And still, he stayed because he wanted to continue his family’s legacy. That kind of loyalty andhonorwas, well, hot. It made himtrustworthy.

I had so many secrets I wanted to tell him. I was all too familiar with being ousted. If anyone would understand, it was him. I needed to get closer on all levels.

An idea came to me. I covered my breasts with my hair, then dried my hands on a towel to take a selfie, holding the bookmark up to cover my left eye as I pulled a flirty face, my tongue licking the side of my upper lip.

I reasoned that he had probably already seen my tits from the raccoon and skyclad incident, or else I’d never send something like this to a guy I hadn’t hooked up with. The picture showed the shape of my boobs, the water making my hair float like a mermaid. I looked dewy and glistening in the crystal-clear water. Before I psyched myself out, I sent it.

Carson: You’re a goddess.

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