Bare Yourself (Consumed)

His whistle is soft when he sees me standing there. “Damn girl, you look hot.”

I smile at him in appreciation, knowing he’s being nice and his eyes are only for my friend. “Thank you.”

I walk to the kitchen and grab my purse. Just as I’m crossing the threshold back into the living room, the doorbell rings. Nerves skate down my spine. My belly flutters when I remember how good Tegan made me feel last week on the side of the road, and what all he could do to my body if I allow things to go further.

With Luna still tucked against his chest, Logan answers the door. What greets us has my breath catching and my thighs clenching. Tegan, decked out in a pair of dark-wash jeans, worn at the knees, black thermal shirt with the sleeves pushed to his elbows showing off bulging muscles with a hint of tattoos peeking through, black biker boots, and messy hair, sunglasses again perched on top of his head, even though it’s dark out, looks like every girl’s dream. My first thought is I want to climb him like a tree and grind myself all over his hardness just like I did that first day, and fuck anyone that’s in the room to witness it.

Logan extends a hand for Tegan to shake. “You must be Tegan.” After he release his hand, Logan steps back to allow Tegan to enter. “I’m Logan.” He turns and gestures to Minnie. “And I believe you’ve already met my wife,” he finishes, his eyes dancing with laughter.

Tegan looks cute when he shifts uncomfortably on his feet, and I barely suppress a laugh.

“Uh, yeah.” He looks at Minnie, a sheepish expression on his face. “Sorry about earlier,” he mutters, then looks at Logan. “I meant no disrespect.”

“No worries, dude,” Logan alleviates Tegan’s worry. “I know what my wife looks like.” He turns and throws a wink at Minnie, who blushes. “Just as long as that shit doesn’t happen again, we’re cool.”

Right at that moment, Tegan’s eyes meet mine across the room. The look he sends me has my toes curling, and I swear my clit does a little jump. The heat he’s emitting can be felt all the way over here, and it’s scorching. I lick my suddenly dry lips. His eyes track the movement and his jaw hardens. How in the fuck can we both have such a strong reaction to the other when we’re virtual strangers? The answer eludes me, but I don’t give a rat’s ass. I just know I want him more than I’ve ever wanted a man before, even if that does make me stupid. I want him to make me feel what I felt a week ago. I want his hands on me and mine on him. I want to lick him from top to bottom, paying extra-close attention to his cock. I want to see how fast he can bring me to orgasm.

“I have my eye on something else.”

His words are husky and bring me back to the moment, reminding me we’re not alone. Even with the distance between us, anyone could see us eye-fucking each other. I squeeze my legs together, and even knowing it’s not possible, pray no one can smell my arousal.

Minnie clears her throat and walks over to me. “Can we expect you back tonight?”

I’m surprised she would ask such a thing right there in front of Tegan, but then again, we’re talking about Minnie here. She may be more reserved than me, but at times she has no filter.

At the same time I say “I don’t know,” Tegan says “No.”

Logan chuckles lightly. I lift a brow in Tegan’s direction. Cocky bastard. He may be able to see my reaction to him, but I do have self-control.

“Sure of yourself, aren’t you?” I half tease.

“Yep,” he answers without cracking a smile.

Rolling my eyes, I turn to Minnie. “I’ll call you later to let you know.”

After saying goodbye to Minnie and Logan, Tegan and I leave. He takes me to the same truck he was in a week ago, and helps me climb inside, his hands lingering on my waist several seconds longer than necessary. He gives me a smug smile when I look over at him.

Rounding the truck, he climbs in, then starts the engine. Some rock band comes over the speakers.

“Logan,” he starts, turning down the volume, then backing out of the driveway. “He’s the lead guitarist for Deep Rush, isn’t he?”

I look over and I’m once again hit with a strong blast of desire. He looks hot sitting there comfortably driving; one wrist thrown over the steering wheel, while the other arm sits on the armrest between us. I’ve always found watching a man drive incredibly sexy.

“Yes.” I blame my breathless voice on the seat belt being too tight.

“I thought I recognized him. I’ve been to a couple of his concerts here in Atlanta.”

“You’re lucky. It’s hard to get tickets, especially since they’ve cut back on tours.”

I shift in my seat to face him more. The light from the streetlamps we pass causes his appearance to seem darker. The fingers hanging over the steering wheel tap against the dash. His left leg is bent and resting against the door. My eyes land on the tattoos peeking out of his shirt. In the dark cab, I can’t tell what they are, but from what I saw earlier, they seem very detailed and colorful. His delicious scent fills the space between us, making me want to lean over and run my tongue up his neck and taste him.

Need coils in my belly, and although he has the air conditioner on, I suddenly feel very hot. I flip the vent so it blows on my face.

Tegan looks over and remarks, “Hot? I can turn the air up more if you need.”

He reaches for the controls, but I put my hand on his, stopping him.

“No, I’m fine.”

He looks over again. I’m sure, even from only the occasional streetlamp, he can see my cheeks are flushed. His lips tip up at the corners, but the returned desire I see in his eyes, tells me he feels it too.

At least I’m not alone in my sexual haze.

Instead of putting his elbow back on the armrest, he reaches over and puts his hand on my upper thigh, just below where my skirt stops. The move is bold, and normally it would raise my hackles—after all, I don’t know this guy—but something in me wants his hand there. For some reason I feel comfortable in his presence. Maybe I’ve been deprived of sex for too long and my body would appreciate any guy’s hands on me. For some reason I don’t think that’s it though.

“So, what brought you to Atlanta?” Tegan asks. His hand is warm and rough against my skin, sending shivers up and down my legs. I know he’s got to feel the goose bumps he’s causing. His thumb is rubbing lightly, which totally obliterates my train of thought. All I can think about is shoving his hand underneath my skirt and panties and riding until I reach oblivion.

Hell, Willow. When did you become such a single-minded hussy? My far more reasonable mind chastises me.

“Willow?”

Tegan calling my name reminds me he asked me a question. I shake my head, ridding my mind of all things naughty, and try to remember what he asked.

Oh yeah. Why did I move to Atlanta.

“Uh…” My voice comes out squeaky, and I flick my eyes to him, then clear my throat and try again. “Minnie’s been wanting me to move here for years. I don’t have anything keeping me back home anymore, so I figured now’s the perfect time.”

While part of what I said is true—Minnie has asked me to move here and there is no reason for me to stay in Texas any longer—there’s no way I’m telling him the whole truth.

“So, you’re here to stay?”