Wet and Reckless (Private Pleasures 4)

Fine. She took the cup from him and sat. She’d explained things poorly. An apology and a second attempt were in order. “I’m sorry. That came out wrong, but you get what I’m trying to say.”

What was she trying to say? Hey, West, I stole my guitar away from a disreputable loan shark in Nashville, and if my past catches up to me before I get gone, you’re going to wish you’d never met me. “You’re entrusted with keeping the community safe. People around here rely on your good judgment. What are they going to say if they think you’ve hooked up with me?”

“That I’m lucky. Your ice cream is going to melt.”

Zero headway. Negative headway, actually, because his “lucky” comment made her want to kiss him full on the mouth and strangle him at the same time, which summed up her feelings toward him since day one. She stared at the cup in her hand rather than let him see how conflicted he had her. “What flavor did you get me?”

“Unicorn Magic with wild cherry whipped cream and rainbow sprinkles.”

Something clutched in her chest. She pried the top off and looked at the day-glo swirls of fuchsia, blue, yellow, and green topped by a cloud of pink and a scattering of candy-coated speckles. “I love Unicorn Magic. How did you know?”

“It was the most colorful thing on the menu.”

The tightness migrated to her throat. Hoping something cool would ease it, she dug in and then closed her eyes as a trillion calories of cold, sweet yum melted on her tongue. “Mmmm.” She licked the spoon clean and then went after the traces of whipped cream on her lips. Finally, she remembered her manners and opened her eyes to offer him a heartfelt, “Thank you.”

West sat there, his own spoon halfway to his mouth, watching her with an intense expression, even for him. “You’re”—he set his cup aside and cleared his throat—“welcome. Ready to go?”

Go? They’d just gotten here. Keeping up with the man was giving her whiplash. “Don’t you want to finish yours?”

He leaned in close enough she caught the scent of vanilla on his breath. His eyes dropped to her mouth. “I’d rather taste yours. What do you say, Roxy? Wanna share?”

Her lips tingled. Her mouth craved a heady sweep of vanilla-laced heat. She might have even tipped her face up to receive it, but he waited an instant, then another—enough time for her mind to catch up with what her bod

y was planning. A kiss. It didn’t have to be such a big deal, right? People locked lips all the time, and it meant nothing. A temporary connection as prelude to some equally temporary thrills, but…

A single kiss can change everything.

What if it did? What if it didn’t? At this particular juncture in her life, she didn’t know which would be worse, and she wasn’t quite brave enough to risk finding out. On the other hand, she didn’t want to bring this heady interlude to a screeching halt. Purposefully, she swirled a finger through her cup, picking up a sprinkle-studded sample, and offered it to him. “Mama raised me to share and share alike.”

Without breaking eye contact, West took hold of her hand and dipped his head. Before taking his share, he paused. “This could get messy, Reckless.”

“Some things are better messy.”

At his wicked smile, a warning flag fluttered in her stomach. An instant later, he closed his mouth over her finger.

Right then, Roxy realized she’d made a massive tactical blunder. His tongue stroked her skin, circling lower as he slowly sucked her finger deeper into his mouth…to the first knuckle, the second knuckle, and then…sweet heaven…all the way in until the tip of his tongue traced the sensitive web between her fingers and awakened a highly susceptible erogenous zone she’d never known existed. She felt every pull of his lips and flick of his tongue in other areas—her uncomfortably tight nipples, her throbbing clit, a place inside her where need blossomed into a familiar ache.

Her hand went limp in his, and she didn’t put up any fight whatsoever when he uncurled her next finger and drew it into his mouth alongside the first. This time his teeth came into play, and all the sensations doubled. Her eyelids turned heavy. Her breath caught on a whimper—an audible one. He slid her fingers from his mouth by degrees, and when they popped free, his unfairly talented lips curved.

It wasn’t entirely the smile that reminded her she had a stake in this little game they’d started. The light of victory in his eyes factored, too. “My turn,” she said and tried out a cocky smile of her own. “What’d you get?”

“A simple classic.”

“Plain vanilla?”

“America’s favorite flavor.” He eyed her as he picked up his cup and dipped into the heat-softened ice cream. “Open wide.”

She parted her lips, and waited, as he served up a generous taste of simple and classic. But instead of allowing her to lick his fingers clean, he eased them inside her mouth. Her swallow reflex took over, drinking down cool, thick vanilla along with the salt of his skin. The taste of him triggered memories of that morning—of her coming long and hard while he fucked her mouth with those fingers and her body with every inch of his.

Not simple, or classic, but highly addictive. She sucked on his fingers as he withdrew, moaning softly at the feel of him sliding through her lips. But he wasn’t done. He swapped out his fingers for his thumb and pushed in again, just far enough to press against her tongue. Her mouth watered. Her insides melted. This time when he withdrew, he lingered, dragging his thumb over her lower lip. Making it wet. Making everything wet.

“Hungry for more?”

She nodded. “Starving.”

“Which flavor? Unicorn or vanilla?”

“You. I’m craving what only you can feed me.” Her lips barely brushed his thumb as she spoke, but the small caress sent erotic promises to every part of her shimmering for his touch. “Coat my tongue with your taste. Flood my throat. Make a mess of me.”