Southern Sinner (North Carolina Highlands 3)

“Followed by some beer-braised meat?”

I grab Stevie’s hand and settle it on my crotch. “Wanna braise my meat?”

“God, that’s terrible,” she says, but she still laughs, the sound going breathy when she curls her fingers around the chubby in my pants. “Hm. Not as tender as I thought.”

“Are things heating up?” I somehow manage to put down my phone and start the car.

“Boiling over, as a matter of fact.”

She tugs down my zipper, and my dick jumps. “I think my dad humor is rubbing off on you, blackjack babe.”

“You asking me to rub one out for you?” Stevie’s hand glides inside the slit of my briefs. Her thumb glides up the slit on my head, and my hand tightens on the wheel. “Or you want me to taste you?”

“Taste,” I say hoarsely, thanking God and Rolls Royce that the tint on these windows is so dark. “Since we’re on the food theme.”

Stevie leans over the center console. She flips her hair over her shoulder and shoots me a hot look.

Taking my head in her mouth, she keeps her eyes locked on mine as she bobs down, then bobs back up.

My other head falls back on the headrest. Need coils between my legs.

She sucks, taking me deeper, and I slam the heel of my hand on the wheel. “Fuck. Fuck, honey, you’re good at this.”

We’re good at this, and I want you to stay.

“I know,” she says, pressing the flat of her tongue against my tip.

I come in her mouth just as we’re pulling into the grocery store parking lot. She swallows, and after I put the car in park, I take her face in my hand and kiss her hard.

“As much as I wanna return the favor right here, right now, I also don’t want to get arrested. The second we’re back home, I’m playing with that pussy.”

Stevie catches her bottom lip between her teeth. Facing me, she leans her back against the passenger side window.

A beat of clean, intense desire blooms between us as I look at her, and she looks at me, heat blasting from the vents, the shockwaves slowly subsiding between my legs. Sunlight catches on her hair, making it look bright red. Her lips are a little swollen.

She’s fucking spectacular. And I want her to be mine.

Mine to keep.

To worship.

I know what I’d say right now if she didn’t have a because.

Let’s make this real. Exclusive. Dating. Serious. Whatever the fuck you want to call it, I’m in. This isn’t everyday shit between us, so let’s figure out how to make it work.

I probably should’ve been more guarded. I needed to fall for another unavailable chick like I need a hole in my head. I get it. But this time, there are no lies. Well, not between Stevie and me, at least. This feels right and real in a way nothing else ever has.

The irony is killing me.

Same as this feeling in my chest. Want with sharp edges that keep catching on my ribs every time I think about Stevie leaving.

I know in my gut she won’t be back. She’s a good human being. She’d never toy with me like that. She’d never believe me when I’d tell her I’m cool with casual, that I won’t catch any more feelings if we see each other again.

She’s the kind of woman who doesn’t have time for that shit.

It’s a part of the reason I fucking adore her.

“Need you to get out of the car, Stevie. Right. Now.”

She bites her lip. “Or what?”

“Or I’m gonna commit an act of public indecency. Get your ass out of the car.”

She wiggles said ass as she does as I tell her. I follow her, grabbing her hand as we walk through the parking lot.

We take our time grocery shopping. It turns out, it’s actually fun when you have a punch-drunk partner.

“You don’t happen to have brown sugar at home, do you?” she asks, one hand on the side of the buggy as I push it down the baking aisle.

“Ha,” I reply. “Good one.” We both know I only have some half-and-half and year-old ketchup in my fridge.

“Mind grabbing the short ribs while I go get sugar, then?”

“I’ll get the short ribs and the grits. Cheese too, ’cause grits without cheese are like you without a tambourine.” I nod at a nearby aisle when she cuts me a disbelieving look. “Mama and I would shop here together back in the day. I know my way around.”

Stevie’s shoulder rises on a sharp inhale. “Of course you do.”

“Oh! And what do you think about a salad? Get some more veggies in because I’m famous, and I gotta look good?”

Back at home, I unload and unpack the groceries while Stevie pours us a beer. I eat her out on the floor of my dining room. She comes with a cry, and after we make out for a while, I teach her how to light a fire. She picks out a Sam Hunt playlist.