Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

To think I was this close to going through life without knowing kisses like this existed.

The dissonance between Eli’s rough, calloused palms on my face and the softness of his lips, his tongue, his touch, makes me want to howl.

I manage a whimper instead.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs into my mouth, lips moving over mine like he can’t stand to pull away, not now, not even for a second.

For as long as I can remember, I’ve hated when people use baby as a term of endearment. Just struck me as cheesy, I guess. What boy bands called the invisible object of their affection in saccharine pop songs.

But when Eli says it to me, less a word than a growly rumble, I’m hit by a surge of acute arousal.

I guide the wet fabric of Eli’s shirt up over his belly. It sticks there, still plastered to his body. Then I slide my hands a little lower until I meet with the slice of bare abdomen over the waistband of his jeans.

“I’m okay,” I reply.

His skin is hot. He’s a wall of muscle here, rippled and ridged in all the right places. So different from my own body.

I reach behind me and somehow manage to open the door. I fall back, and Eli falls with me, catching my mouth with his. He shuts the door behind him.

His kiss deepens. He’s kissing me hard now. We’re breathing hard. I can feel him getting hard against my thigh.

Oh, Jesus, he feels big.

Really big.

The heaviness between my legs throbs.

I run my fingers over a happy trail of wiry hair arrowing from his bellybutton down to his taut waist. It disappears—tantalizingly, teasingly—into his jeans.

I slide my palms back up his torso, then grab the hem of his shirt. Wordlessly we work it up his chest, only breaking our kiss when he tugs it over his head. It lands with a wet plop somewhere on the floor.

Just like that, he’s shirtless.

Back in his element.

His eyes meet mine. They’re sharp. Glistening.

“So my Yankee girl likes me shirtless after all,” he says, a half smile playing at one corner of his lips. I notice they’re a little swollen.

He’s so damn sexy I’d probably black out from looking at him if I wasn’t so turned on.

I slide my arms around his neck, arching my body against his. The heat of his skin burns through my wet shirt.

My nipples prickle to life through my thin shirt. Eli notices, his eyes flicking down to my chest.

“Oh, you definitely like me shirtless.” His eyes flick back up to meet mine. “I think I’d like you shirtless, too.”

“I’ll join your club.” My voice is a little hoarse. “Although I don’t think I’ll quite compare to you.”

“Shush,” he says, reaching down for my shirt. “Stop comparin’. You’re gorgeous.”

I shiver when he pulls my shirt over my head, separating us again.

Keeping my eyes closed, I feel the heat of his gaze on me. I send up a silent prayer of thanks that I wore a decent looking bra today. It’s red, a little lacy. Nothing crazy, but the cups are sheer, and it makes my tits look round and firm(ish).

I hear Eli let out a long, low breath through his nose.

The next thing I know he’s pressing a scruffy kiss to my neck, just where I like it. Just where I can feel it in my clit.

I squeeze my legs together. Open my eyes and dig my hand into his hair as he bends down to kiss the rounded top of my left breast. The way he bends his neck—the thick cords of vein and sinew that pop against his skin—there’s something overwhelmingly masculine about it.

“I’ve been wanting to do that since I walked into your kitchen the first time,” I say.

The ghost of that delicious smirk of his plays at his lips.

“So do it.” His eyes are a little hazy now. “Do what you want, sweetheart.”

Rolling up onto my tip-toes, I curl my arms around Eli’s neck and pull him down. I kiss him. I close my eyes and tilt my head and I kiss him.

In half a second flat the kiss is messy and hard and deep. I cannot get enough of it. Of him. The way he smells and the feel of his skin.

My pulse is hammering. A new wash of heat settles low in my core when Eli’s hands snake down to my ass, giving me a squeeze before gently pressing me into his groin.

Oh, I can definitely feel his erection now. He’s rock hard.

He kisses my neck. Sensation shoots through my skin to land squarely between my legs, making the heaviness there throb.

And then he says my name.

Olivia.

A half growl, half plea. That accent of his curling around the vowels, making it sound like something entirely new and entirely different and entirely sexy.