Don't Look (Pike, Wisconsin #1) - Alexandra Ivy Page 0,75

and setting it on the nightstand.

Catching him off guard, Lynne reached to wrap her fingers around his straining erection. Kir bit back a curse as pleasure blasted through him. Her touch was hesitant and slow. Painfully, gloriously slow as she pulled her fingers back to the tip of his cock.

“It looks real,” she teased.

Kir arched his back, relishing the stroke of her fingers until a familiar pressure built at the base of his arousal. He was about to embarrass himself. Gently pulling her hand away, Kir lowered himself to the mattress, stretching out beside her.

“I’m hoping you have a few sparks of your own happening,” he murmured, pressing their naked bodies together. The friction created a velvet heat that vibrated between them as Kir tangled his fingers in her hair and kissed her with a blatant hunger. He moaned as the taste of her hit his tongue. Sweet, feminine temptation. Intoxicating.

Time drifted past, as slow and lazy as the snow falling outside as Kir explored Lynne’s slender body. First with his fingers and then with his lips. He discovered that kissing the arch of her foot made her giggle, and that there was a tender spot on her inner thigh that made her sigh in pleasure. He absorbed the scent of her soap that clung to her skin and the plush softness of her breasts.

At last raising his head, he gazed down at her face, which was flushed with passion, her lips swollen from his kisses. His heart contracted, squeezed by an emotion that felt too big to fit inside him. “Are you sparking yet?”

She wrapped her arms around his neck, lifting her head off the pillow to nibble a path of kisses down his jaw. “Do I really have to say it?”

“Yes, please,” he rasped.

She framed his face in her hands, her eyes dark and mysterious in the soft light. “I didn’t think I could be on fire when the temperature is below zero outside.”

Smug pleasure blasted through him. “I want you drowning in flames before the night is over.”

Her lips twitched. “Has anyone told you that you’re overly ambitious?”

Rolling on top of her, he pressed her into the mattress as he threaded their fingers together. Then, he stretched her hands above her head as he reached for the condom. Quickly slipping it on his aching erection, he settled between her parted legs.

“Isn’t there a saying about the pot calling the kettle black?”

She released a low groan as the head of his cock slid an inch inside her body. “I’m not ambitious, I’m passionate,” she told him.

He slid in another inch. The wet heat of her wrapped around his tender tip, the sensation unbearably exquisite.

“Ambition and passion,” he hissed between clenched teeth. It was increasingly difficult to carry on a coherent conversation. “A match made in heaven.”

She squeezed his fingers, her head tilted back as he pulled out and pressed back in another inch. “Heaven, again.”

“It seems to be the word I associate with you,” he confessed. And it was the truth. Lying on the bed in the shadowed room with Lynne soft and welcoming beneath him was as close to paradise as he’d ever been. “Especially when you’re in my arms.”

She arched her back in a silent plea for more. “Funny. The word that comes to my mind is dangerous.”

“Opening yourself to another person is risky,” he readily agreed. “Are you willing to take a chance on me?”

In answer she wrapped her legs around his waist, her expression one of anticipation.

It was the only encouragement he needed. Holding her gaze, he pressed deep into her body. Her slick flesh pressed against his cock, squeezing him in bliss. They groaned in unison.

Rocking his hips, Kir lowered his head to kiss Lynne with a sizzling desire. Could anything be better? This was the sheer perfection of opposites. Cool sheets against hot skin. Hard muscles cradled against soft curves. Low moans and the thunder of hearts.

Moving together they reached for the heavens.

* * *

Nash woke with a splitting headache and no idea where he was. Christ. It’d been years since he’d blacked out. Not since his college days.

Lying on the hard floor he had a wistful urge to return to those simpler days. He’d do things differently this time. There wouldn’t be any endless parties and sleeping through class. Nope. He’d concentrate on his football, and even if he didn’t make it to the pros, he could find a place to coach, or even become an announcer at the games. Anything