Your Fierce Love (The Bennett Family 7)

Feeling his heated breath on my skin makes it hard to think. I look over his shoulder to the surroundings, but the thick foliage of the tree and the dimming evening light is shielding us from view.

“What are you wearing?” he asks.

“Hmm?”

“Your underwear. Describe it.”

The last two words sound unmistakably like a command, and my body reacts before my mind, pressing into him, seeking more contact. Not answering doesn’t even occur to me.

“Matching set of white cotton and silk.”

“Thong or G-string?”

I lick my lips. “G-string.”

“How wet are you?”

“Blake....”

“Tell me how wet you are!”

The command comes on another heated rush of breath that undoes me. I’m so turned on I don’t know what to do with myself. I’m almost ashamed.

I press my thighs together. “Very.”

With no small dismay, I realize my hands are still under his shirt, right at the waistband of his jeans, feeling him up. But what do I do? Do I let go? No, sir, I do not. Instead, I trace the defined lines of his abdomen, the steel muscles.

His hand goes up to my hair, tugging gently, but I have the distinct impression he’s barely holding back from being rougher.

“What are you doing?” I whisper as he starts breathing in deeper.

“Calming down. Trying to think about anything other than taking you somewhere private and making you come.”

I lick my lips, trying to swallow a moan. I fail. It tumbles from my lips, and Blake’s reaction is almost visceral. A groan reverberates from deep within his chest. It is a pure, masculine sound, and it’s calling to me on a primal level. I don’t know for how long we stay like this, limbs intertwined in a manner that is passionate and tender at the same time, but I like the feeling of his arms around me.

“I can’t believe you backed me up against a tree.” I chuckle when he finally steps back.

“I can’t believe I was able to stop at that.”

Well damn. I walk around him, stepping out of the tree’s crown. Blake follows my lead. I’m still a little light-headed and very turned on. I need a cold shower. Stat.

My shower, which also shares a wall with Blake’s. Somehow I don’t think a cold shower would help all that much.

“Let’s continue our climb,” I suggest.

We’re silent with the effort of climbing, and then we fall into an easy conversation on the way home. But when we step into the dimly lit and narrow stairwell of our house, suddenly, the air between us is thick with tension again.

“Want to walk me up to my door?” I elbow him good-naturedly, hoping to diffuse the tension. No such luck.

“Nah, I’ll just kiss you against it.”

“You’re something,” I mutter. Blake traps my gaze with his for long seconds.

I quickly step away, unlocking my door. As I step inside the apartment, I feel a tiny bit safer, even though Blake still looks all too potent and sexy.

“Good night.”

“Good night,” he replies, and I close the door.