Desperate.
He crowded right into my space, his heavy, dense frame pinning my soft body against the rough brick. I could feel the rigid, thick length of his erection branding my thigh through our clothes, a promise of exactly what was waiting for me. His hands slid down to my waist, his thick fingers digging into the flesh of my hips, pulling me flush against his chiseled core until there wasn’t a single molecule of air left between us.
I kissed him back just as desperately, until he tasted like cherry too. He groaned into my mouth, and the sound ramped up that ache between my legs into a raging inferno.
“I’ve been trying to be good,” he said, his teeth nibbling my lower lip.
“Stop trying,” I whispered.
His hand cupped my face, his thumb brushing over my bottom lip. “You’re making this really hard.”
I flexed my hips against him, smiling a little. “I certainly hope so.”
“Roxie—”
“Take me home, Bridger.”
His gaze searched mine. “You sure?”
I nodded. “Yes, I’m sure Bridger.”
“I don’t want to rush you.”
“I know. But, Bridger. I want to be rushed. Well, I don’t want the sex to be rushed—”
I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me over his shoulder. My ass was in his face, bounce-testing his shoulder with every massive stride he took, but he didn’t care. He just clamped a heavy palm over the back of my thigh, squeezing me tight. I hoped no one saw him doing his mountain man act, but then decided if they did, they would just be jealous.
Why? Because this man wanted me that much.
We didn’t talk on the drive back. Didn’t need to.
Every time he shifted gears, his hand brushed my thigh. Every time I glanced at him, he was already looking at me.
The second we pulled up to the house, he was out of the truck, coming around to my side and pulling me into his arms and carrying me up the front porch. He managed to unlock the door with me still in his arms.
As soon as he kicked the door closed behind us, his mouth was on mine, hands everywhere. Finally, finally we were both giving in to what had been building since the moment we met.
CHAPTER SIX
Bridger
We didn’t make it three steps inside before I had her against the wall.
My mouth crashed against hers, swallowing her gasp. Her hands fisted in my hair before I even got the door closed.
I kissed down her neck, tasting her skin, feeling her pulse jump under my lips.
“Bedroom,” I managed against her throat.
“Yeah.”
We made it to the stairs. I got halfway up before I had to taste her again. I turned her, backed her against the wall, and kissed her like I was drowning and she was air.
Her hands went to my shirt, pulling at it frantically. I helped her, yanking it over my head and tossing it down the stairs.
She stared at my chest. Her hands came up tentatively, fingers tracing over my abs, following the lines of ink that covered my shoulders and arms.
“Touch me,” I said. “Anywhere you want.”