Baby, Hold On - By Stephanie Bond Page 0,23

tell her, without the benefit of alcohol and “last call,” that he wanted to have sex with her? In her fantasy script, she didn’t respond by folding like an ingenue.

Lacey screwed up her courage and marched into the cabin. Sheridan had retreated to his bed for a nap. She walked quietly to Mike’s closed bedroom door and pressed her ear against it. His shower was running.

Before she could change her mind, she opened the door and stepped inside his bedroom. The bathroom door was ajar and she could hear him splashing. She began peeling off her clothes so by the time she reached the shower curtain surrounding the tub, she was completely naked. She opened the curtain and had a glimpse of his big nude body before climbing inside.

The man had an arsenal, all right. He was built like a tank.

Mike jumped in surprise, but recovered quickly. When he grunted with appreciation at her naked body, she felt her femininity unfold in the face of his hard, muscular planes and his growing erection.

He pulled her against him and murmured, “I thought you said this was a bad idea.”

“It still is,” she whispered, then pulled his mouth onto hers for a hard kiss.

The water pinged off their bodies as they devoured each other’s mouths. He sank his fingers in her hair and she skimmed her fingers down his corded back. The dark springy hair on his chest felt wonderful against her nipples, bringing the tips to hardened buds. He swept his hands down to her buttocks and pulled her up to meet him, grinding his stiff shaft against her stomach. She reached down to clasp the slippery knob and he groaned against her neck. “That feels so good.”

He palmed her breasts, then dipped his head for a taste of each. Lacey’s knees felt rubbery from the onslaught of sensations arrowing to her womb. She stroked the length of him and when his fingers delved into her slick folds, she sucked in a sharp breath.

An orgasm swirled low in her stomach, a humming, thrumming energy that made her weak and excited at the same time. She clung to him and he followed her vocal cues, caressing her with greater urgency until she came apart in his arms. She gave up pretense of standing, gave herself over to his support. He kissed her deeply, absorbing her moans, then lifted her out of the shower and carried her to his bed.

He lay her down, then stepped away to rummage in a toiletry bag. Lacey felt so wanton, lying there just waiting to be taken. She was glad Mike had the presence of mind to retrieve a condom, and roused herself enough to help him roll it onto his large member. Just the size of him sent a thrill through her. And when he thrust into her, filling her completely, she could only sigh in his ear.

“You feel amazing,” she whispered.

His eyes were half-closed, glazed with passion. His big bronze body was still wet and glistening. He was glorious, and made her feel utterly female. He stroked the already-sensitive nub of her desire until she cried out in ecstasy again, then wrapped his arms around her and thrust deep to take his own release with a long, shuddering groan that left her shaken to the core.

This man moved her.

At length, he stilled, kissed her and pulled away. When he left to dispose of the condom, Lacey sat up gingerly, wondering if she should leave. But when Mike returned, he was wearing a big grin—and holding up another condom.

* * *

Lacey started awake and glanced at the clock on the nightstand—it was almost midnight. She and Mike had spent the entire evening in bed, stopping long enough to raid the refrigerator for cold-chicken sandwiches. He lay next to her sleeping, but their bodies weren’t touching, as if he wasn’t comfortable sharing his bed—overnight anyway. Her body still pulsed, tender and swollen from his attention. She marveled over their physical compatibility…and tried to ignore the disturbing feelings clicking in her chest.

Like the feeling that she wouldn’t mind if Mike Nichols stuck around Sweetness for a while.

A storm had blown in. The steady rain would’ve been soothing on the roof if not for the frenetic flashes of lightning through the window and the sporadic boom of thunder.

From the main room, Sheridan began to whimper, then howl in earnest.

Lacey got up and grabbed the first article of clothing she could find—Mike’s T-shirt—and pulled it over her head. She opened