Page 30 of Her Rugged Guardian

“You bet I am. Do I frighten you?”

“Nothing scares me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” No one would ever say I was a talkative guy. I used to be, but that had been during the highlight of my hockey career when I’d had reporters of the female persuasion and women following me around like a perfect harem, eager and willing to do what I asked. I’d talked up a storm then. Now this woman had gotten more out of me than ten people in several conversations. That’s how powerful her odd hold was over me.

A siren.

The thought remained in the back of my mind as I yanked her skirt down her ample hips, allowing gravity to take it the rest of the way to the floor. At least I didn’t need to tell her to step out of it, the luscious woman doing that without hesitation. When she stood in only a matching bra and panties, the realization I could bask in the moment of studying her figure for more than a few minutes hit me like a sledgehammer.

“What are you looking at, Mr. Grinch?”

“Something I crave. Something I need to have.”

My words pleased her, the smile crossing her face in contrast to the redness creeping up on her cheeks. She had to know how beautiful she was. If not, she’d been with all the wrong men.

Not that I was the right one for her, but I certainly knew beauty when I saw it.

“You do, huh?”

“The only thing better would be to have you covered in chocolate frosting.”

My Cinnamon Girl batted her eyelashes. “Does that mean you adore my baking?”

“Uh, no. I think you should stick to big business, which you’re obviously good at.”

“You know how to hurt a girl’s feelings.”

“Somehow, I doubt that.” When she laughed, I really did have the need to cover her in frosting.

I reached around her rounded hip, shoving her thong aside and slipping my fingers into her wetness. She was as tight as I’d imagined, so wet and hot that my fingers felt as if they were on fire.

“Oh,” she moaned, tossing her head as she arched her back, dragging that luscious tongue of hers across her bottom lip. She had no idea what the subtle yet sensual move had done to me before.

The vixen immediately reached for my belt, constantly darting her eyes to mine. I wasn’t certain if she was looking for affirmation or was merely letting me see the wild little tiger burning brightly inside of her. It didn’t matter. I sensed she was about to set herself free.

Sweat beaded across my forehead as the unsatisfied desire shifted into something that could easily get out of control. I felt like nothing more than a predator and had she told me she didn’t want this, I wasn’t entirely certain I would have stopped. Fuck. I’d never wanted anyone the way I did her.

We tore at each other’s clothes, the frantic need to have our naked skin pressed together one of the most powerful draws I’d had in a hell of a long time. As she peeled away the dense and soaked material of my jeans, fighting to free my cock, she groaned in frustration.

“Do you need help, my tasty cinnamon roll?”

“Not a chance, Mr. Grinch. I know exactly what I’m doing.” But she continued to struggle, which amused me more than it should. However, she dropped to her knees, determined to follow through with her task at hand. Holy crap. How long had it been since a woman had been between my legs on her knees? I was so out of sorts and practice that my cock was instantly pinched against my zipper. If she didn’t free it soon, I would fucking rip every inch of my clothing off myself.

You had to admire a tenacious woman, but I was finished with keeping my raging libido in check. If I wasn’t able to drive my tongue into her tight channel soon, I would go mad.

She finally yanked my wet jeans over my hips, my underwear going with them. There was something so exhilarating about the way she sucked in her breath as my cock sprang free. “Holy crap. You’re huge. You’re… whew.”

I hadn’t had that kind of reaction in… forever. My cock now stood at full attention from the effect of her incredulous look and the words that she’d muttered.

She threw me a look, her face still flushed. The girl was adorable in her reactions. Somehow, I doubted she was a virgin but holy hell, the mood I was in, I wanted to rob her of whatever innocence she had left.

For some insane reason, something Bart had told me at the last poker game floated into my mind as she continued to yank on the dense material. What bothered me was that I said the words out loud.

“You only live once.”

Her reply was automatic. “So live life to the fullest.” When she dared breathe across my cockhead, I knew I was close to losing control. No woman, no matter how incredibly beautiful, should keep a hungry man waiting for his feast. If that made me a dickhead, then so be it.

The second she managed to untie then rip off my steel-toed boots, I start pushing my jeans to the floor.

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