Southern Hotshot (North Carolina Highlands 2)

He keeps protecting me, and I don’t know what the hell to make of it.

His fingers remain on my hip as I breathe in the breadth of him. I have never felt so small.

I’ve also never felt so safe. I resist the urge to put my hands on the small of his back and melt into his body. How good would it feel, to touch another human being and be touched in return? It’s been so damn long.

His skin. I can smell it. Clean. A hint of spice, probably from the soap he uses.

The tiny space between my front and his back comes alive. My nose is an inch from his spine. My hips brush his backside with every breath I take. I could step back. I should step back.

Instead, I stand very still, caught in his gravity. The determined throb inside my skin coexists with the softness in my core. It’s bewildering.

It’s also somehow…affirming? The fear pounding through me fades. I don’t need to be protected. But having someone on my side definitely helps me feel less afraid.

It makes me feel emboldened.

Samuel tilts his head to one side, then the other, making the sinews in his neck pop against the skin.

It’s a fuck off signal if I ever saw one.

“Can I help you?” Samuel clips.

The guy draws up short. He eyes us, debating what his next move should be.

“Sir?” Samuel says. “I’m happy to escort you back to your room.”

“No,” he replies. “No, I’m good. I was coming out here to smoke.” He pats the front of his pants. “Shit, I’m out of cigarettes. Never mind then.”

I move to stand next to Samuel. His hand is still on my hip, arm extended across my torso.

I glance up at him. His eyes meet mine, and he dips his head in a barely perceptible nod. Go for it.

He wants me to take the lead. The idea that he’s bending, that he’s trusting me, sends a bolt of arousal through my center, as bright and fast as lightning.

“You know what’s a joke?” I ask, turning back to fourteen. “Smoking. You may think what I do is ridiculous, but at least it doesn’t kill me.”

The guy has the balls to narrow his eyes at me.

“Whatever,” he says, tucking his hands into his pockets.

I stare him down. “No, not ‘whatever.’ You insulted me this afternoon, and you made our other guests uncomfortable. Continue this behavior and I won’t hesitate to ask you to leave the resort. Understood?”

A flush of embarrassment spreads across his cheeks. He looks away.

Looks downright sheepish. I bite back a grin.

“I’m done here,” he says at last.

“You should’ve been done hours ago,” I reply. “Good evening.”

Samuel and I watch fourteen make his way around the pavilion toward the main house.

And then he’s gone.

Without thinking I drop my head against Samuel’s shoulder, the fabric of his suit jacket silky smooth against my skin. I take a long, deep breath, closing my eyes as I try to gather myself.

He smells so damn good.

My knee joints liquify. My heart hammers. My body is hollowed out and hungry.

Hungry for more of this. Touch. Electricity. Safety.

“I know David only likes babies,” I manage. “But maybe Eddie has a thing for dickheads.”

Samuel’s massive shoulders shake as he laughs. I lift my head to find him looking at me.

Our eyes lock, and a beat of very real heat passes between us.

He holds up his free hand, the first two fingers crossed. “Let’s hope so. You okay?”

“I am. You?”

“I’ll be better when he’s gone for good.”

His fingers flex against my hip. I feel them around my heart. Squeezing. Probing.

I look down. Samuel is still touching me.

And somehow my hand is on his forearm, the heat of his body seeping into my own.

His eyes go hazy, and he turns around to face me.

He’s standing close. Really close.

The fantasy blooms to life inside my head. I imagine him stepping into me, bold and unhurried, using the bulk of his body to plaster mine against the retaining wall. The feel of the stones bite into my back through my silk shirt. He puts one hand on the wall beside my head. The other he curls around my waist, just underneath my bra, and holds me against him, everything from my navel to my knees melting into his groin.

Heaviness gathers between my legs.

I imagine he ducks his head and puts his mouth on my neck. My head falls to the side, my breath coming in hot pants, as that heaviness throbs.

Yes.

My God, yes.

His teeth nick my skin, sharp and slow and arousing as fuck. He soothes the spot with his tongue, then his lips. His scruff is scratchy, but I like the sound it makes against my throat as he moves. He’s not hard, not yet, but I still wonder what it would feel like. The crown of his erection thrust just where I want it, teasing my clit through our clothes.