My Ex's Baby (Crescent Cove 8)

“Just tired.”

Still studying me, he blocked the open truck door. His stupid shoulders were so wide and distracting.

“You want to get this show on the road?” My tone was sharper than it should have been, but he was crowding me and dammit, my resistance was low.

I was supposed to be the bigger person.

The smarter one.

Not that he probably noticed my heart rate skyrocketing and my need for a new pair of panties. Because goddess, it was ridiculous how twisted I was getting.

Breathe.

To steady myself, I grabbed the small nest of fluorite and amethyst I kept in an Art Deco glass locket I’d found last summer. I’d bought it to resell, but something about it had called to me. And I would’ve done just about anything to calm the hell down during Ivy’s pregnancy. As it was, I had a new person in my life with Rory, and my niece Rhiannon. Things had been changing at a rapid rate, and no amount of chill vibrations from

crystals were helping right now.

“You’re being weird.” He laid both his bear paws on my shoulders, his thumb skimming over the chain of my necklace.

I shut my eyes and counted to five. I knew he was just trying to be the sweet August I knew he was under the gruff and grumbles. He liked his space, same as I did. It was why we understood each other and had leaned hard on one another during Ivy’s whirlwind romance and pregnancy.

Maybe that was why I was having such a hard time.

Things would go back to—

My eyes shot open.

Dear goddess.

Warm, firm lips brushed along mine. His hands slid higher on my shoulders and up to frame my face. His eyes were closed so he couldn’t see my panic.

I couldn’t decide if I wanted to haul him closer or shove him away.

My heartbeat roared in my ears as he swiped his tongue ever so gently along the seam of my lips and panic got beat over the head by my rampaging lust. I went onto my toes and there was nothing but the scent of wood-soaked rain and Diet Coke-flavored August.

The best taste in the world.

I twisted my fingers into the front of his T-shirt and took everything. My mouth raced over his, and my fingers snaked under the hem of his shirt to his rock-hard belly. The just-right level of chest hair over rippling muscles made me want more. His skin was so warm and smooth that I wanted to spend all day finding every place that would make him shiver under my touch.

He groaned into my mouth when my nail scraped over a nipple.

Sweet August left the building.

He turned me into the frame of the door, bracing one arm on the roof of the truck and the other around my waist as he obliterated my brain. There was a fine art to kissing. I’d kissed plenty of males in my years on the planet. Most never got past that because if you couldn’t kiss then my interest level hit the skids.

August had fourteen freaking medals—all gold.

The scruff on his face abraded my flesh, but it only ramped up the buzzing under my skin. My heartbeat thundered, and my breath caught in my chest. He opened me up, demanding participation, and I gave it. I twined my arms around his back, my nails digging into his muscles and smooth skin.

I plastered myself to him until there was no air between us.

My back arched as he nearly bent me backward to get closer. His teeth scraped over my lower lip and chin to my neck. His lips and tongue made quick and thorough trails along each side to nip at my ear before going back to my mouth once more.

I couldn’t catch up.

I couldn’t control it.

I couldn’t breathe.