Southern Player (Charleston Heat 2)

She sucks in a breath, reaching back to dig her fingers into my hair.

“Luke,” she breathes.

“I love it when you say my name,” I murmur against her skin as I slowly work my way up her neck.

Gracie arches against me, fingernails curling against my scalp.

“Luke,” she says again.

“Yeah?”

“Why do you”—her voice catches when, leaning all my weight on my good arm, I reach around and cup Gracie’s breast—“you talk dirty, but you go slow. Why?”

“Because.” Through the fabric of her shirt, I gather her nipple between my thumb and forefinger and draw it out. “I ain’t rushin’ with you. I been waiting ten Goddamn years to touch you, and I plan to savor every minute. But I am as God made me, baby, and He in all His wisdom gave me a real dirty mouth.”

She moans when I play with her hardened nipple, giving her tit a solid squeeze.

“Never thought I’d like dirty talk,” she says. “But with you—Luke, I love it.”

I grin as I feather my lips over her jaw.

“I noticed.” I nudge her with my nose, and our eyes meet. “Dirty talk aside. I’mma do this nice and proper like, Grace. Meaning I’m gonna take my time and learn your body and draw you out just how you want. Nothing leaves this room. Same as nothing gets left on the table. I’ll give you everything I got, and you better damn well do the same. You want that intensity we talked about? You gotta give me your all, baby girl. You gotta show me everything.”

Her forehead is creased as she searches my eyes for a beat. Then another.

My heart is thudding inside my chest.

“I’ll try,” she says at last. She takes me by surprise when she turns her head a little more and kisses me. A quick kiss, but a hot one. An honest one. “Thank you. For getting it. For doing this with me. It means a lot, and I appreciate it more than you know.”

I look at her. Cock blaring.

“Thank me when I’m done.”

And then I’m getting on my knees and reaching for the hem of her shirt. Holding up her hands, she sucks a breath through her teeth when I pull it over her head.

And then she’s turning around. Climbing onto the bed and getting on her knees.

Her bra is fancy. Black lace, delicate straps. Unabashedly sexy.

Girl came to play. All right.

Her gaze flicks to my left shoulder. Then my right. Catching on the puckered scar that runs lengthwise, a little bit at an angle, across the skin there.

Her brows come together. Making my heart skip a beat.

“You don’t talk about it much anymore,” she says. “Your shoulder. Does it still hurt?”

I take her hand. Place her fingertips over the scar. She feathers them over the skin. Gentle.

Curious.

“That doesn’t hurt at all. I still have some stiffness every now and again. But no more pain. Not really. Just gotta be aware of it. Don’t wanna tear the damn thing again.”

Her eyes, liquid and warm, meet mine. “I’ll be careful.”

I shake my head. “I’ll be fine. You’d have to do a lot to hurt me.”

“I’m sorry that happened to you. The injury.”

I look at her. “It sucked, yeah. But I always knew baseball wasn’t going to last forever. I’m happy with how things turned out.”

Her lips curl into the prettiest little smile. “I’m happy, too. Because you’re happy. But also because it brought you back to us.”

Now my heart is doing this weird hiccupping thing.

“I always knew I’d end up here.”

Maybe I always knew I’d end up with her, too.

“Watermelon,” she says, her fingers moving up over my chest. “Say it if it hurts.”

Then she’s looping her hands around my neck. Pulling me to her, skin to skin, bellies flush, the lace of her bra tickling my bare chest as her mouth comes up to mine. Greedy and warm.

I draw my hands up her sides, reveling in the smooth feel of her skin. I hook my thumbs inside the delicate cups of her bra.

I swipe the pads of my thumbs against her nipples, and her kiss grows fierce.

I kiss her fierce right back. Stealing her breath. Yet giving and giving and giving.

I taste her hunger. Her enormous, pent up need to let loose and let go.

Take, I tell her with my tongue.

Take all you need. ’Cause I got a lot to give.

And I’m gonna give it all to her. Same as I give my all to the farm. The produce I grow and harvest. I’m good at growing things. At giving them what they need when they need it.

Things don’t die on my watch.

They thrive.

I reach behind Gracie’s back and unhook her bra. We break apart for half a heartbeat to take it off together.

Revealing the most perfect pair of tits in the history of the known universe.