Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

My knees buckle.

They fucking buckle.

I see it in my head. Me going down like a sack of potatoes, dragging him with me. One of us ending up with a bloody nose, the other a shattered elbow.

But I don’t go down.

Instead, Eli catches me. His grip firms on my ass, moving to the backs of my thighs before he lifts me up, curling my legs around his waist.

He takes my gasp into his mouth. Kisses me senseless, tongue licking into my mouth, teeth nicking my bee-stung lips.

“I don’t—” I manage.

Eli gives me one long, lazy stroke of his tongue. “Don’t what?”

“I don’t get all wobbly like that,” I breathe. “Not with anyone.”

Laughter rumbles in his chest as he takes my mouth with his again.

“You just did with me.”

I roll my hips against his erection. He growls.

“Bedroom,” I say, digging my fingers into his hair. “Just—just keep going back. Door past the counter.”

Eli walks us across the tiny space of the carriage house. His lips never once leaving mine.

The ancient floorboards creak beneath our weight.

I am on fire. His scruff tickling my chin. Dick pressing into my pussy. The bare skin of his firm tummy pressed against mine.

Even though my eyes are closed, I can tell we’re in the bedroom by the gentle sound of the rain pattering against the windowpanes.

He curls one arm underneath my butt. He glides the other hand up my spine to cup the back of my neck, cradling me.

“You ready?” he asks, pressing a kiss to the corner of my lips. “I’m gonna put you down on the bed.”

I can only nod into his shoulder.

I’m speechless. I’ve never been held like this. Never felt cherished like this.

Or maybe I never allowed myself to feel this way. To be so vulnerable with someone else.

I just feel safe with Eli. Safe, and very sexy.

Eli sets me gently on the bed, and I untangle my legs from around his waist. A rush of cold air moves in where the heat of his skin used to be. I suck in a breath, shivering, and gather my arms against my chest.

The light from the window catches on Eli’s face at the foot of the bed. There’s a crease between his gathered eyebrows.

“I’m here,” he says, and then he plants his palms on the bed and slowly climbs on top of me, the mattress dipping in time to his movements.

The climbing. It’s so sexy I think my head might explode. The muscles in his arms and shoulders flex as he shifts his weight from one side to the other. His wet hair falls in his eyes. I reach up and brush it back.

I part my legs. Invite him in.

Eli’s gaze sharpens.

My eyes nearly roll to the back of my head when he settles his groin against mine, giving his hips this little teasing, eviscerating roll before he grabs my leg and guides it up toward my torso, bending my knee. His body melts into mine. My wet jeans don’t want to give; they tighten uncomfortably around the joint.

But when he bends his head and gathers my nipple in his mouth, sucking it hard through the fabric of my bra, all other sensations fade to the background.

I arch into his mouth, tugging my hands through his hair. Lust bolts from the hardened point of my nipple straight to my clit.

As if he can read my body like a book, Eli rolls his hips again, making the seam of my jeans hit me right there.

“Eli,” I moan.

In reply, he moves to the other nipple, then trails a fiery line of kisses on my chest, my neck. My jaw.

Then he captures my mouth in his, surrounding me in warmth and skin, settling his weight onto me as he draws a hand up my naked side and cups my breast, thumbing my already over-sensitized nipple.

He’s hot. Huge. Heavy.

He begs me to give in to him. With his mouth and his body, he’s asking permission to take charge. To do what he’s wanted to do since he first saw me how many days ago.

“Yes,” I breathe.Chapter Twenty-OneEliOlivia gives her hips a tiny little roll. Just enough to meet me at the crest of my own roll, so the head of my dick hits her center just right.

I grunt, biting down on her bottom lip.

Leaning all my weight onto one elbow, I hold myself up and reach between her legs. Even through the thick, wet fabric of her jeans, I can feel how hot she is.

I can feel the beat of her pulse, too. It’s going wild.

She’s clawing at my chest. Digging her nails into my skin when I press my two fingers against the length of her slit.

She is burning.

Olivia does this thing—she lets out these little moans, so quiet I can hardly hear them over the rain outside, whenever I do something she likes.