Love on the Lake (Lakeside 2)

“I like you.” I close my eyes and blow out a breath. I don’t think I’ve ever fumbled this much with a woman in my life. It’s a lot easier to get naked and use my mouth for things that don’t include a lot of words. “I’m such an idiot. Why can’t I shut up?”

“Want some help with that?” Her voice is soft and low and very, very close.

My eyes pop open, and Teagan is standing right in front of me, chin tipped up. Her eyes are the color of a cloudless summer sky. She’s not short. I’d guess that she’s close to the same height as Dillion. Maybe even taller. But I’m pushing six feet five, so even the tall women don’t seem all that tall to me. Her long hair is pulled up in a ponytail, wisps of it having come loose, skimming her cheek. Her tongue sweeps out, dragging across her bottom lip. It’s fuller than her top lip, making it look like she’s halfway to pouting when she’s not smiling. And most of the time she’s smiling. Except when I say something asinine. Because I’m a donkey.

“What?” I blink down at her, feeling like the awkward, gangly teen I once was. I don’t know what exactly it is about her that makes me impossibly stupid. Usually I’m disgustingly smooth with women. But with Teagan, I’m a hormonally paralyzed idiot.

She crooks a finger, beckoning me closer. But there’s only six inches separating us. If I take a step forward, my boots will touch her toes. So I bend instead, until my ear is next to her lips, like I’m waiting for her to tell me a secret.

For a moment I consider the fact that I’ve been up and down the stairs to the loft at least a dozen times. The only air circulation in here is from a portable fan, so I’ve been sweating and shirtless for several hours. I might not smell all that fresh.

But that thought disappears when her fingertips drag along my collarbone and I feel the warmth of her breath at the edge of my jaw.

“Aaron.”

Her palm wraps around the back of my neck. So soft. So warm.

I swallow and grind out, “I’m listening.”

Her thumb finds that spot between my ear and my jaw, and she presses, gently at first and then more firmly. Her lips brush the shell of my ear, and she whispers, “Look at me.”

I feel like a marionette, and she’s pulling all my strings. I turn my head toward her, and her lips brush across my cheek, sending a hot shiver down my spine, lighting me up like a pinball machine.

Teagan Firestone is a dangerous woman. Sweet, beautiful, broken, and yet . . . bold and resilient. She’s a lethal combination, and it’s all compounded when those soft lips meet mine.

I don’t even know what’s happening. Well, I know. I’m kissing her. Or she’s kissing me. She definitely started it.

It’s like an explosion. Like an entire warehouse of firecrackers igniting at the same time. I groan into her mouth and wrap an arm around her waist, pulling her flush against me.

Our tongues tangle, and her other hand grips my biceps, sliding up and over my shoulder. She knocks my hat off my head, and it drops to the floor behind me. And then both of her hands are in my hair, sliding through the damp strands, gripping at the crown, angling my head farther to the side. Deepening the kiss.

Dragging it out.

Our tongues battle and then soften, find a rhythm that’s slightly less frantic. She sighs and moans, hips starting to roll, like she’s dancing to a song only she can hear.

In a moment of clarity, I feel around behind me and flick the lock on the door. She startles and bites my tongue. With our mouths still connected, she walks me backward across the room, toward her bed.

I feel the mattress against my calves.

She pushes on my chest, breaking the kiss. She’s not physically strong enough to knock me over. Maybe with a roundhouse kick or a knee to the balls, she could bring me to my knees. But I fall back on the bed, propping myself up on my elbows, legs spread wide, erection making itself known against the fly of my jeans.

Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and her eyes roam over me on a hungry sweep.

“What’re we doing here, Teagan?” I don’t know why I ask. It’s pretty fucking obvious what the plan is. And my body is totally on board. Normally I wouldn’t even think twice about it. Not when a woman I find attractive is very clearly showing me what she wants.

But Teagan is nothing like the women I typically end up in bed with.

“Whatever we want.” She pulls her tank over her head and tosses it on the floor. And then she hooks her thumbs into the waistband of her shorts and tugs them down her long, toned thighs, leaving her in nothing but a pink satin bra and matching panties. Clearly it’s her favorite color.