Southern Bombshell (North Carolina Highlands 5)

I take one more inhale before offering the bowl to Nate. That’s when I see his arms are covered in goose bumps, the hair standing straight up. He didn’t put on his coat before coming out, saying he’d “be fine.”

He’s freezing.

“C’mon.” I reach over and run a hand up and down one arm, then the other. “Let’s go polish off those carbs. I’ll light a fire because we know how hot sex in front of a fire is. Pun intended. Wish I could say I’ve invested in a bearskin rug since the last time we hung out, but we’ll have to wait ’til next time for that. You think Amazon sells them?”

He looks down at my hand as it moves. He’s quiet for several beats and I worry that my comment about “next time” landed the wrong way. I didn’t mean anything by it, although it’s entirely possible my subconscious did.

Because . . . yeah, I’d love there to be a next time. And a time after that.

“I’ve missed you,” he says, wrapping an arm around my neck and pulling me in for a kiss.

I lean my head against his chest. His heart beats a steady, strong rhythm, and I feel my shoulders fall back from my ears as a deep sense of contentment comes over me. I’m just high enough not to fight it.

“I’ve missed you too,” I say.

He shivers, and I grab his hand and lead him inside. We sit at the island and eat our banana bread and ice cream in big spoonfuls.

“Jesus Christ, that’s good,” Nate says around a mouthful of bread.

“No kidding. Mom and I ate half of it when she came over earlier.”

He looks huge and adorable crouching over his plate, the muscles in his back bulging against his shirt as he shovels the last bite into his mouth. It leaves a swipe of ice cream on the corner of his lips, making me smile.

“What?” he asks.

I stare at his mouth. “I meant it when I said I could eat you.” Leaning forward, I stick out my tongue and lick his face, lapping up the ice cream.

“Gross,” he says, laughing, and I lean in to lick him again, polishing off what’s left on his lips. “You’re worse than Lucy.”

I’m laughing now too. “You’re so delicious that the ladies in your life just have to lick you.”

“What a lucky bastard I am,” he deadpans, and before I know what he’s doing, he’s curling his finger into the ice cream on my plate and smearing it on my cheek. He’s sneaky fast for his size, and suddenly, he’s leaning in and licking my face, making me laugh. His tongue moves to my mouth, and then he’s kissing me. His lips taste like vanilla, his breath sweetened with chocolate.

Desire curls between my legs as the laughter keeps coming. I put my hand on his thigh, creeping toward his groin, and he moans into my mouth. It’s the perfect distraction. I load up my finger with the last little bit of ice cream on my plate and pull back to arc it across his chin and mouth.

He barks with laughter, deep and loud, and grabs my wrist, holding it away so he can press his lips to mine, covering both our faces with ice cream.

I grab a corner of banana bread and press it against his shirt.

“Shit,” I say against his mouth. “Your shirt’s dirty.”

“I should probably take it off,” he replies.

“You should, yeah.”

He does. He reaches behind him, bicep firming as he yanks the shirt over his head, mussing his hair. I rake my gaze over his bare chest and his strong stomach, following the arrow of auburn hair that disappears into the waistband of his joggers.

My nipples prickle to life, a sensation I feel in my clit.

I need more.

I meet his eyes and hook a chocolaty finger into that waistband. I notice he isn’t wearing boxers.

“These too.”

His gaze sharpens. He stands, eyes still on mine as he unties the knot just below his belly button and slowly—slowly—works the pants over one hip, then the other. His happy trail darkens. The top of a firm, round ass cheek appears, and I swear to God my mouth waters when he tugs the joggers lower and his dick bobs into view.

Raw need floods my center as I take him in. The swollen length, the pink, broad crown. The thatch of hair, lush but neatly trimmed, at the base of his shaft.

His dick bobs again when the joggers fall to his feet and he steps out of them, one furred leg at a time.

And then Nate is totally, gloriously naked.

Chapter Twenty

Nate

My cock swells beneath Milly’s gaze.

I have no business standing buck ass naked in her kitchen, a little high and a lot horny. But here I am, and I’m having a real hard time feeling anything other than elation.