Losing Track (Living Heartwood 2)

And she’s right. Again. I don’t need this shit. I was wrong that first night when I approached her, when I let her gravity pull me in. I’m sure there’s a plethora of guys in orbit out there now, who she keeps all at bay. Waiting for the second she crooks her finger at them.

I have to admit, when I first saw her, I was tempted by that pouty mouth. The big dark eyes, gorgeous against her creamy skin. Layers of burgundy and black hair swept up into a messy pony tail, brushing her soft shoulders. Petite, tight body with curves in all the right places…begging to be explored. She looked so mouthwateringly untouchable. Tough as nails yet soft and tender.

But it was more than that. She sung, over the crowd, over the chaos, her pain. She wears it like a shield of impenetrable armor. Literally has it tattooed on her body. It called out, whether it wanted to be heard or not, recognized or not, and my pain answered in reply. Physical attraction; anyone can feel it. Anyone can act on it. But that soul deep cry—that raw harmony that plays on a frequency too low to hear—that’s what caught my attention. Ensnared me.

Only I was too oblivious at first to acknowledge it for what it was.

There wouldn’t be any escape with this girl. Not the kind I’m craving.

“Get your ass out, guy,” she shouts from the bank. “Hustle up. I have to get back before I’m assumed AWOL.”

Then there’s that: messing around with a user. It’d be safer for me to stick my hand right into a fire. Because this proverbial one is going to hurt a lot more.

That thought helps the rock hard boner tenting my boxers to wilt, and I can move out of the water. But dammit, as soon as I’m solid in my choice, mentally berating myself for almost getting mixed up with another user…she bends over to grab her pants.

She’s wearing these cream and pink, half ass cheek covering things. Not thongs—I know what to call those. But they’re sexy as hell. Lace trims enough of her round ass to hide most of it, but reveals all the sexiness. And I can’t help myself; I stare. Stare hard.

I can just glimpse the shape of her lips through the material. Imagine her clit…wet from the water…slippery and warm.

My cock starts to throb painfully. Fuck. I’m headed right back to the water when she outs me. “Damn, baby. Is that for me?” She winks, a playful smile pulling at her mouth, and my face heats.

I am a fucking glutton for punishment. Any other girl would have been a safer choice.

I run a hand through my hair, purposely avoiding looking down at my dick. “I’m a man, not a saint.”

A sly half-smile sneaks onto her face. “Well, it’s about time.” She slinks over, carrying her tee in one hand, her other adjusting her bra strap. She stops inches from me, her bare feet planted near mine. I’m staring down at them instead of her face. “You can look. Look all you want. I have to admit, the shy guy act is kind of turning me on.”

What little blood that’s left in my brain drains right to my cock. A buzz fills my head, making me lightheaded as I slowly move my gaze over her body. Taking in the beads of water on her thighs, her low-riding underwear resting along her hips, the smooth skin of her stomach, the sexy arc of her waist. When I reach her eyes, they’re staring back into mine, tempting me. Daring me.

“I think we’re allowed some fun,” she says, low and sultry.

I’m so dazed by this girl, I can’t grasp the irritating thought knocking in the back of my head. What the hell? She shifted so quickly—from cold to hot. Wanting nothing to do with me to about to jump my bones.

Red warning lights are flashing right in front of me, but that’s not enough to keep me from needing to touch her. To taste her. Only she does it first.

She presses her damp body up against mine, her curves molding to all the right places. Her breasts push against my abs. Her warm stomach grazes my cock. She’s so petite she should fit wrong, but she’s damn perfect. I can feel her shivering, the slight breeze causing chill bumps to form on her arms as she raises them to link around my shoulders.

Sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she bites down, sending a thrill through my nervous system. She slides one of her legs between mine, the top of her thigh glides along the shaft of my dick, and without conscious thought, I wrap my arms around her and cup her ass. Bringing her flush against me.

I lean down and whisper, “You know what you’re doing?”

Her quick laugh spikes my blood. “And then some.”

My eyes squeeze closed, and my hands ball into fists, gripping the thin material barely covering her ass. I can feel her smile as she inches onto her toes and runs her soft lips over my neck. Her tongue lightly caresses below my ear, and I’m about to come out of my skin.

It’s been too damn long since I was this close to someone. Physically. Sexually. And I’m pushing every excuse not to throw her down right now and fuck her out of my head. She wants it, doesn’t matter what it is. Casual or what. And I want to give it to her…

She reaches down and grabs me. Wraps her fingers around my cock. Grips tightly, slides her palm up and down. I release a shaky breath as she pr

esses herself against the head. Fuck. It feels so fucking good…but when she slips her fingers between the slit of my boxers and strokes me with no barrier, skin to skin, the sensation almost makes me release right here.

“Come on,” she says. “Give me a buzz I can get away with.”

My eyes fly open. I can feel my facial muscles go from slack to tense. She sees the change in my features, and pulls away a fraction. I grasp her wrists and bring her hands between us.

“We should get back,” I say, hating myself as I hear the words leave my mouth.

“Right.” She nods once, hard. “Because…?”