Trouble on Tap (Sweet Salvation Brewery 3)
His help. His touch. Him.
Mateo turned his head, bringing their lips close. “Then you’re in trouble.”
For a heartbeat she didn’t move, didn’t breath, didn’t think.
Then his lips touched hers, and all she could do was fall into the kiss.
Chapter Nine
Touching Olivia was like coming home whole, instead of with his head wrapped in bandages and on enough pain medications to knock a bull to its knees.
Except unlike during that hellish flight from the base in Germany, where they’d stabilized his condition enough for the return stateside, standing in his kitchen with his arms wrapped around Olivia, he knew everything wasn’t going to be all right. Still, he couldn’t stop himself from wanting to believe it would be. And that hope? It was even more dangerous than the feel of her fingers on his chest or the taste of pecan pie on her lips.
Not wanting to but knowing he didn’t have a choice, he pulled back for a breath before he lost himself and took things too far. He was supposed to scare her off with his touch—make her run away to the safety of her cabin and leave him in peace. Instead, she was electricity under his skin, unpredictable and wild.
He fisted his hands at his sides before he reached for her again. “Being this close to you and not being able to touch you was supposed to be my penance.”
She looked up at him, her cheeks flushed pink and a genuine desire burning in her blue eyes. “For what?”
“Everything.” It was the simplest explanation for the wrongs he’d committed and the men who’d died as a result, but the single word cut him deep.
Cupping his face in her palms without even the slightest flinch at touching the eerily smooth scar tissue crisscrossing the left side of his head, she raised herself up to her tiptoes and brushed a kiss across his forehead. “Maybe it’s time to stop punishing yourself for past sins.”
He wished it was that easy, but it wasn’t. So if h
e was already this deep in, what was one more transgression? Snagging the hem of her tank top between two fingers, he tugged it taut. “I suppose you think you’re the woman to show me the way?”
Leaning in close, she whispered into his good ear, “No one knows more about sinning than a Sweet.”
“That’s what you think.” He lifted the hem of her shirt, inching it higher as slowly as he could without losing what was left of his mind. “I’m going show you a thing or two tonight.”
She exhaled a shaky breath and took a step back. “Big talk.”
“You know I always keep my word.” He pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it to the floor.
If he could have turned away from her, he’d crossed that point. There was no going back now. His balls tightened at the sight of the high curve of her tits pushing against the yellow lace of her bra. The material gave just enough of a glimpse of her dusky pink nipples beneath to make pre-come wet the tip of his dick.
“I’m going to fuck you long and hard right here in this kitchen.” He skimmed his hands down her sides, dipping in at her waist and flaring out at her generous hips, relishing the way her breath hitched as he made the downward journey. He slipped his hand under her skirt and stopped as soon as his fingers brushed the lace of her thong. “But first I’m going to lay you across this island, spread these long legs as wide as they’ll go and feast on that pussy of yours because you’re wet for me already, aren’t you, honey?”
“Why don’t you feel for yourself?” she challenged, her breathy tone showing just how much she hoped he’d pick up the gauntlet she’d thrown.
Like there was any chance of leaving it where it lay. “Trust me. I plan to.”
He cupped her ass, lifting her up until her damp center pressed against his dick still tucked away in his basketball shorts but fighting to be free. The urge to yank them down, pull her panties to the side and drive straight and hard into her nearly squeezed the air out of his lungs. Something primitive inside him demanded release to claim her, make her his.
Her tits jiggled against his bare chest when he sat her down on the island and shoved her skirt up to her waist. “Spread your legs.”
“Yes, sir.” She winked as she stretched out her legs, but an excited flush had spread across her chest—neither of them were playing games anymore.
The center of her delicate yellow thong was several shades darker than the rest and he breathed in the intoxicating scent of her arousal as he slid his thumb across the dewy material. It was heaven and hell in one tiny patch of lace. Ever impatient, she pushed her hips higher, pressing against his thumb.
He gave her covered pussy a playful smack and then rubbed the sensitized spot. “Not yet. I want to hear you moan and beg to come all over my mouth.” He pulled the soaked material to the side, revealing her bare pussy lips, puffy and soft with want. “Some things take time.”
“Just lick me already,” she half begged, half demanded.
“I never said I’d lick you.” He ran the backs of his knuckle across her exposed wet folds. “I’m going to feast on you.” He released her thong so it covered her up, grasped the thin piece of lace crossing her hip in both hands and snapped it in two. “I’m going to make love to that delectable pussy with my mouth and my tongue and my fingers but I’m going to do it on my time, because when I finally sink balls-deep into you, it’s going to be hard, fast and without mercy.”
Her thighs trembled. “Fuck, Mateo.”