Heir Untamed - By Danielle Bourdon Page 0,49

a surprise. Surely many women stared when they were in his presence. He was so casual, so self-contained. And he had chest and shoulders to die for. No, Chey was certain Sander Fisk was not immune to extra attention from women.

“Is that uncommon?” Chey could be counted upon to speak her mind, at least.

“No,” he retorted with wolfish charm.

“Then why are you surprised?”

“Because it's you. You don't seem like the staring type.”

“What type do you think I am?”

“The type to come over here and do something about it.” A rasp laced itself through his words, as appealing as the seductive glance he leveled across the cab at her.

Oh, he was a brazen bastard.

And he was absolutely right. She was the type to take action when the desire arose. Under the right circumstances, Chey could be forward and blunt.

Her belt came loose with a quiet click.

He cut his eyes to their corners, a quick check, before finding the road.

Scooting across the bench seat, she cupped her hand on the other side of his whiskered jaw and set her teeth to the nearest, scraping her way to a kiss. His stubble tickled her skin, not an unpleasant sensation.

“Can you kiss and drive at the same time?” she asked before slanting her mouth over his. Chey caved to the attraction between them and slipped her tongue past his lips. She had nothing to lose and everything to gain. He wanted it, or he wouldn't have goaded her into action.

He applied the brakes steadily and wrapped one hand in her hair, switching from passive participant to sudden aggressor. Sliding his tongue over hers, he kissed her thoroughly, dipping into the hollows behind her teeth and along the roof of her mouth. He kissed her like a man skilled in the art of passion, who knew exactly what he wanted and meant to take it.

Chey would have sworn the temperature in the truck rose a hundred degrees in seconds. Breathless, she nipped his lip and eased back enough to see his eyes. He searched hers with a predatory gleam, fingers giving her hair a testing tug. Automatically, she moved her head to counter, just to see what he would do. He increased the grip and brought her mouth to his, changing the angle, his other hand gliding down her ribs to her hip.

Lost in the heat and friction, Chey didn't so much as twitch when he slid his hand under the hem of her shirt and found skin. Sander made it easy to want him, to throw caution to the wind and give in. He was all male, solid and strong, with a subtle scent of masculine cologne tickling her senses. The river left its mark on his clothes, as well as the trees and sand, adding something untamed and wild to his skin. When he groaned, she swallowed it and returned a more feminine version of her own.

Breaking the kiss, he teethed her lip and pressed a whisper there. “My cabin?”

“Yes.”

. . .

Carrying her with one arm around her hips, like she weighed nothing, Sander toted her from the truck to the front door of the cabin. Chey, arms wrapped around his neck, barely registered that the horses were tethered to the post alongside the structure as he unlocked the front door. Feet dangling a half foot off the ground, she tongued his jaw, his ear, his throat. Each glide earned her a groan or a growl, encouraging her to do it all over again. Under her palms, his muscles flexed and shifted, causing her to knead circles across his back and shoulder.

Nudging the door closed with the heel of his boot, he tossed his keys negligently aside and skimmed her shirt up her body. The peeling of layers came as he drove her backward: shoes and socks, shirts and pants, bra and boxers. He was as glorious naked as she imagined he would be, all sinew and hard strength. Clasping an arm around her waist, he carried her like that into what must have once been the King's old bedroom. Periphery picked out all the details because she didn't want to stop kissing him long enough to take a good look.

A high ceiling wrought with heavy beams arched over a large room with several windows in two walls. The massive bed sat to the left with other sturdy furniture flanking a stone fireplace that ran floor to ceiling.

Laying her down on the mattress, he covered her with kisses from her navel to her