Southern Charmer (Charleston Heat 1)

I want her to trust me with her story the way she trusts me with her body.

I want that more than anything.

Olivia opens her eyes, eyelashes tangling with mine. The naked faith I see there—hell, I’m a goner.

“Touch me like you said you would. I can’t—God, Eli, I can’t take it when your hands aren’t on me.”

I don’t need to be told twice.

I dip my finger all the way inside her pussy this time. She arches against me, and I take the opportunity to unhook her bra with the hand I have on her back.

Looking down, I take in her nakedness. Her tits are gorgeous, full and round, her nipples pink and puffy and hard.

My clothes suddenly feel twelve sizes too small.

Pressing a kiss to her neck, I pull back.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I say, nodding at the bed before I tug my shirt off. “I’m gonna go grab some condoms from my bag, okay? I think I left it in the truck.”

“Okay.”

Half a minute later, I’m back in the bedroom, condoms in one hand, my belt buckle in the other. I toss the condoms onto the nightstand.

I freeze when I see Olivia on my side of the bed. She’s pulled back the covers and is lying in the crisp white sheets, head on a pillow, hand between her legs. Her fingers move slowly over her pussy. Her knee falls off to the side, spreading her wide open so I can see her. Pink and slick.

Perfect.

Her eyes lock on mine. She bites her lip, back arching when she hits her clit.

“I’m sorry,” she pants. “I was dying without you. Had to.”

My cock jerks.

Yankee girl is in my bed. Playing with herself. Because she’s dying for me.

“Oh yeah?” I rip off my belt and jeans. “Tell me where you like it. Tell me how you want me to make you feel.”

Olivia lifts her leg to her chest, spreading herself even wider. She runs the pads of her first two fingers over her clit.

“I like it here. And here.” One of those fingers disappears inside her cunt. “I like it at the same time. Sometimes here, too.” Her pinkie taps once against the pucker of her asshole.

I tear at my boxers like a man possessed.

Her other hand moves to her breast. Her back arches again when she thumbs her nipple. Eyes fluttering shut, she breathes, “Eli, I’m—oh, I’m close.”

“Don’t you fuckin’ dare come without me,” I bite out. “That orgasm is mine.”

Her eyes open. They are so blue I get lost in them. My whole being goes still.

“Then come here,” she says. “I need you.”

Damn fucking right you do.

I tear the covers aside and climb on top of her, pulling her hand from between her legs. Gathering both her wrists in my hand, I guide them above her head, resting my weight on my opposite elbow. I lean a little weight into her. Just enough so that our bodies fit perfectly together. Skin on skin on skin. She’s breathing hard, eyes at once teasing and vulnerable.

My dick bobs between us, head sliding against the hot skin of her groin.

For a second I fantasize about making love to her bare. The ultimate act of trust. I’d hook her leg over my shoulder and kiss her hard and work my cock against her pussy before finding her entrance and burying myself inside. Raw. Baby making style.

Soon, maybe. But not yet. Even in my lust-addled state, I know that’s too big of an ask for Olivia right now.

Especially the baby making part. Where the hell had that come from?

I shake the thought from my head. I blame it on the temporary insanity I’m experiencing thanks to Miss Olivia Gates. If that’s even her real name.

I don’t even know her real name.

But I’ll be damned if I don’t get to know her in other ways tonight.

With her hands trapped in mine above her head, she’s at my mercy. I work my mouth down her throat, her chest. I take her nipple in my teeth. I keep going down until I kiss her belly one last time. Then I urge her legs apart with my hips and, moving between them, settle back onto my haunches.

Dropping her hands, I grab her thighs and pull her roughly towards me. She gasps; I grin.

I reach for her breast. Curl my fingers around it. Play with her nipple.

With my other hand, I reach between her legs. Using my thumb, I gently part her folds and meet her eyes. Her dark hair is spread in a wild halo around her head. Her cheeks are red.

“You are beautiful,” I murmur, rolling my thumb once, twice, against her clit, like I’m working the dial on one of those old-fashioned locks—the ones where you have to roll a series of numbers in place to unlock it. “And I’m gonna make you come.”