Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

So is my heart.

“I’m ready,” I say.

He smiles, a devastatingly beautiful flash of white teeth.

“Was hopin’ you’d say that.”

“I’ve done a lot of thinking. A lot of writing. Every thought I’ve had is about you, truly. Every hero I write—Eli, I want him to be just like you.”

“Selfish and scruffy?” he says, a shadow of a smile playing at his lips.

“Smart and sexy,” I reply. “They’ll like to cook, and they’ll have dogs with human names. How’s Billy, by the way?”

“Miserable without you.” He bends down to kiss my neck. His scruff catches on my skin. “He’s gonna lose his fuckin’ mind when he sees you’re back. Although I plan to keep you to myself for a little bit here.”

A beat of familiar heat unfurls low in my belly. I squeeze my legs together. I’m already getting wet.

Really, really wet.

Guess that’s what four months of longing for this man will do. I feel like I’m going to go up in flames at any moment. I need relief.

I slide my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck.

“Do you have to work tonight?” I murmur.

Eli’s hands slide to my ass, and he gently presses me into his groin.

My clit throbs. He’s hard as a fucking tree.

“Nope.”

I turn my head to glance at his pickup truck. He takes the opportunity to nip at my earlobe.

“Let’s go for a drive,” I say.* * *The ridged bed of Eli’s truck digs into my back. The air is chilly; I can just barely see my breath.

But I couldn’t care less. We’re parked in the middle of nowhere. It’s quiet. The sky is wide open, strewn with stars and a big, heavy moon. The clean, crisp scent of pine trees fills my head.

And Eli is reaching up my dress and pulling my thong down. He guides it over my legs, kissing the inside of my thighs, my knees, my shins.

I squirm, the cool air soothing against my throbbing sex.

I am dying for him.

He plays his old trick and hooks one of my legs over his shoulder, spreading me wide. Then he looks up at me from between my legs.

“I can smell you,” he says, voice barely above a growl. “You smell so sweet, baby. So fucking sweet.”

He ducks his head and licks me. Parts my folds with his tongue. Up and down. Up and down. He groans; I cry out.

He takes my clit in his lips and sucks, nipping at me, and I buck against him, digging my hand into his hair.

“I’m close,” I manage. “I want you inside me when I come.”

His eyes meet mine.

“And I want to be inside you bare. That gonna be a problem?”

My heart softens, even as my desire skyrockets.

“I’m clean,” I say. “And I’m on the pill.”

Those eyes of his flash. Darken. I’m trusting him. He’s trusting me.

We’re as vulnerable as we’ll ever be right now.

“Good.” He gets up on his knees and unbuttons his fly. “I’m clean, too. I don’t want anything between us anymore.”

My lips part when he takes himself in his hand. He gives himself a lazy tug, curling his palm over the head.

He’s huge. Bigger than I remember.

Leaning down, he brackets my head between his forearms. Kisses me. Then he reaches down and notches himself at my entrance.

“I’m yours,” he says.

And then he sinks inside me. One slow, deep thrust that buries him to the hilt.

It feels so good to be filled by him like this. So good to be raw and open and shaking like this, on the precipice of something huge and beautiful.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he moans. “You feel—”

But his voice thickens. He loses himself in the moment. The trust. The completeness of it all.

I reach down, and all it takes is one quick flick of my finger against my clit. I come, tears spilling out of my eyes, and Eli kisses them away. Every one of them.

He moves over me with his usual athletic, rolling sensuality. I love it.

“I love you,” I say.

“Always,” he says. “I’ll always love you, Olivia.”

He comes a heartbeat later.* * *Curled up in the warmth of Eli’s body, I press a kiss to his cheek.

He turns his head. Reaches over to tuck my hair behind my ear.

Kisses my mouth. A long, lazy post-coital kiss.

I pull back to laugh.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Nothing.” I shake my head against the ball of his shoulder. “Just when I was driving into Charleston last September, I heard this song—it was about a guy making out with his girlfriend in the back of his pickup truck. I remember thinking how nice that would be. And now here I am, making out with you in the back of your pickup truck.”

Eli looks at me intently.

“Do you like it?”

I grin. “Hate it. Totally the worst.”

He pulls me closer. “Welp. I think you’re officially a southerner now. You eat grits. You know the locals. And now you get naked in pickup trucks. I’ve taught you well.”