Dirty Talker (Slayers Hockey #4) - Mira Lyn Kelly Page 0,43

between us, leaving barely an inch for the air to crackle. “What you’ll taste like if we have another chance. Your fingers in my hair as I give you my mouth. Your knees shaking at my shoulders as you come on my tongue.”

I can’t stop thinking about how limp she goes after I make her scream and how good it feels when I pull her over me and our hearts slow together. That minute when it feels like she’s mine. “You know it’s good.”

Her teeth catch the full swell of her bottom lip, and she peers up at me through the thick fringe of lashes.

I wait for the words I don’t want to hear. That I need to get over myself and there won’t be any repeats of Saturday.

Her hands come up, and I brace for a shove back into my own space if I’m lucky, a slap for running my mouth if I’m not. She makes a fist… and a hot second later my brain registers that it’s in my shirt, and she’s not pushing me away.

Harlow

I’m crazy. That’s the only explanation for why I’ve got my hands in Wade’s shirt and my body pressed against his as I open beneath the crush of his kiss. Why I’m moaning around the possessive thrust of his tongue and melting into the strength of his hold.

I should be telling him that what happened between us was a mistake. That it can’t happen again. But the only words finding their way from my lips to his are fractured pleas, increasing in desperation with every heated second that passes.

The arms around me wrap impossibly tighter and my feet leave the ground. The world spins, and then my back meets the worn wood siding of the boathouse protecting us from prying eyes. My legs lock around his hips as Wade rocks into me, hitting the achy spot that has my belly twisting in on itself, hard.

Breathless, I pull back to meet his eyes. “Wade, this can’t be the start of something.”

He stares at me for a beat, the shadows in the fading light making it impossible to read his eyes. But then his head jerks in a short nod, and he’s got the door open beside us.

Our mouths fuse in another hungry kiss, and holding me like I weigh nothing, Wade carries me into the relative darkness of the small building. The door latches and we’re all over each other. Frantic. Hands everywhere, breaths coming sharp and hard.

He’s got both hands on my ass, gripping me with a sexy, possessive hold that has me moaning into his mouth. I’ve never kissed with such raw and unscripted desire. There’s nothing careful or deliberate about what’s happening here, and it’s incredible.

Lowering me to stand, he guides me to the wall.

“Lean back. Yeah, like this.” Then, eyes locked with mine, he goes to his knees.

Big hands smooth over my calves and then higher up the backs of my thighs. “Lift your dress for me, Good Girl.”

Achy need grips my center and, hands shaking, I do as he asks and lift it. God, there’s nothing good about what I’m doing here… except how it feels.

His touch gentles as he helps me with my panties, pocketing them once they’re free.

“Give me your leg,” he says, drawing it forward and draping it over his shoulder. He groans, licking his lips.

And just when the heat from his eyes feels like it’s going to burn right through me, he leans in and kisses me.

The first soft touch pulls a shocked breath from me, and my hands fly to his head, holding him back.

What am I doing?

Blue eyes meet mine. “No?”

Heat blazes through me in a mix of embarrassment and desire. “We shouldn’t do this. What if—?”

“What if I spoil you so good you never get off without thinking about my mouth again?” He drags his bottom lip through his teeth. “It’s inevitable. Go with it.”

This man. “What if someone hears us?”

“I’ll be quiet.” He winks. “Promise.”

A huff of laughter escapes. “I’ll bet.”

But he’s done waiting. “You’re gonna want to hold on for this.”

And then he gives me the slowest, longest, most incredibly thorough kiss of my life.

Licking his lips, he looks up at me with hooded eyes. “So fucking sweet.”

I’m not breathing.

He nuzzles into the slickness between my legs, kissing me again and again. Teasing me with his lips, his tongue. Soft and then firm and then, God, I don’t even know what he’s doing, but it’s—

I gasp, my fingers closing in