No White Knight

Shit, it’s like there’s ambrosia inside her.

The deeper I search, the better she tastes, hot and wet and luscious.

Her knees part, her thighs flanking my hips. I lean into her with nothing left between us but that dress falling between her legs, but it’s so thin I can feel her heat through it.

Her pulse sears my hips, making my cock throb and jerk with a surge of pure lust.

Skimming my hands up her thighs, I push the dress up around her hips.

Yeah, I know we’ve got people not that far away. For me, right now, there’s nothing but us and the stars overhead.

Plus, the thrilling way she whispers my name.

“Holt,” she murmurs against my mouth, needy, and I’ve never heard my name sound better.

My lips hurt from the crush of our mouths, bruised and sensitive.

It’s the best feeling in the world—almost as good as the heavy weight of her tits on my chest, her nipples hot points against my skin.

Almost as good as her panties dragging against my jeans, and maybe the denim’s too thick for me to feel how wet she is, but fuck.

I can smell it, creamy-tart and alluring, making my mouth water.

My tongue aches like hell to find out if she tastes as good as she smells.

“Holt.” Her knees grip hard at me, then her thighs, quivering and tightening, and I can feel the desire rushing through her in the tautness of her body. “Take me home.”

If I could, I’d have her right here, right now, naked under the night sky in all its glory.

But the lady wants home, so I’ll take her.

Then I’ll keep her up until dawn.

Reluctantly, I pull myself away.

Walking hurts when I’m struggling with a hard-on that could do riot control.

I take her hand and lead her through the fields, toward the truck, lifting her up over the fence at the edge of the Norton property before jumping it myself.

We’ll just have to be rude and leave without saying goodbye to our hosts.

I can’t stand sharing Libby Potter with anyone else right now.

Not when she’s sure as hell already mine.

* * *

It’s a tense drive back to her ranch, the air between us crackling with anticipation.

We don’t say a word and don’t even look at each other.

It’s like there’s a live wire stretched between us, passing this charge back and forth, building more intensity with every mile we cover.

It’s a miracle I don’t break the speed limit.

The moon’s high and bright by the time I pull into her drive and park outside the gate. She’s out of the truck before I can even come around to open the door for her, taking my hand, pulling me up the walk and toward the golden glow of the porch light.

Underneath that light she’s all honey and soft tones.

Libby stops and looks up at me with her hand resting on the door.

“You’re coming in…right?” she asks, nearly breathless.

“If you want me to,” I tease, smiling wickedly, drawn by a heat that puts the summer night to shame. “My stuff’s here, after all.”

Her lips twitch. “I did kinda bully you into staying here. But if you really want to go back to the inn…”

“Fuck no.”

Can’t even think about a hotel room again.

I sink down and capture Libby’s mouth with mine, pushing her back against the ranch house door, pinning her there with my hands on her shoulders.

She’s right there with me, sliding her hands over my arms, arching back, biting my already-sore mouth. Hot twinges echo in sharp, bucking jerks of my cock, impatient and hungry.

She’s wilderness. She’s wildfire. She’s everything that’s beautiful and bright.

I’ll let her fucking sear me to cinders if that’s what she needs tonight.

This woman kisses me with equal love and hate.

Like she wants to punish me with every extreme we pull from each other—a bruising battle of warring tongues and teeth.

We damn near assault each other with heat and hunger.

I can’t keep my hands off her, dropping them down from the door to clutch her thighs, her ass, pulling her into me hard.

I let her feel everything she does to me, everything she draws out, from the heat of my lust to the gut-deep groan spilling out as she bites down hard on my lower lip. I give it right back, snarling like a beast.

She holds me tight with one arm, the other fumbling behind her for the door.

Then we’re spilling inside, nearly tumbling to the floor when we don’t let go of each other for even half a second, practically devouring each other whole.

Somehow, I manage to kick the door shut.

Somehow, we get up to the loft without killing ourselves.

Somehow, we end up on the bed.

And somehow, she’s underneath me now, her body sinking into the bed, a perfect fit for mine.

I push myself up on my knees over her, struggling to catch my breath, drinking my fill of Libby Potter.