circle grew tighter, becoming more of a stroke that pushed intense heat first one way and then the other.
Completely mindless, Faith could only dig her head back into the pillow as Slate manipulated the flame into a full-fledged bonfire that soon consumed her. Then with one final sweep and stroke, he brought her back to earth.
He brushed a kiss on her forehead before he shifted away. In a hazy mist, she turned her head and watchedas he fumbled with something in the dark. It only took a second to figure out what it was.
“Do you think one will be enough?” she asked.
His head came up. “What?”
“One condom. Maybe you should use two.”
“Two? You got something I don’t want, darlin’?”
“No, I just thought…”
He slipped over her, his hands braced on either side of her head. “Don’t think.” He dipped down and kissed her lips. “Just feel.”
Always the good listener, Faith closed her eyes and just felt. Felt the heat of his breath on her face. The brush of muscle and lightly furred skin as he guided her legs apart with his. The nudge—then stretch—of smooth, hard muscle as he pressed deep inside, touching a spot she didn’t even know existed. She knew now. With each penetrating stroke, the intensity grew until her hips tipped and met him thrust for thrust.
Her second orgasm took her by surprise, coming hot and fast in jumpy little spasms. Slate followed closely behind, his head bent forward as he groaned out his release. His body was heavy as he sagged against her, but she didn’t mind the extra weight pinning her down to the crisp sheets. She liked the feel of being beneath him. Liked it so much she actually giggled.
He came up on his forearms and looked down at her. “Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem at all,” she said as she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
Faith had just discovered something she liked better than red shoes and pink lip gloss.
And she planned to get her fill while she could.
Chapter Seven
S LATE STOOD NAKED IN THE DOORWAY OF THE TRAILER and stared out at the Texas sunrise. It wasn’t as spectacular as a sunset, but it was nice in its own right. Of course, spectacular or not, he’d rather be back in bed. And if Buster hadn’t had a bad case of the trots, he would be. Dang nuisance of a woman trying to kill his dog.
Buster ambled back up the steps and pressed against Slate’s leg, staring up with soulful eyes.
“Sorry, boy.” He scratched the dog behind his woolly ears. “She was just trying to be helpful. But in the future I’d keep a little distance if I was you.”
The dog pulled away and headed inside. Slate followed him back to the bedroom only to shake his head when Buster flopped down on the floor right next to Faith’s side. Obviously, the dog didn’t care if she killed him. In a little over a day, he’d grown attached.
Slate looked down at the woman who slept on her stomach with one hand dangling off the bed and one small foot peeking out from the sheet. Damn, if he didn’t know exactly how Buster felt. If Slate didn’t get her out ofthere fast, she would be the death of him, too. Or at least, the death of his coaching career and his sanity. Except he didn’t listen to his own advice, either. Instead of hopping in the shower, dressing, and getting on with the car search so he could then get on with his coaching responsibilities, he slid beneath the sheets.
The feel of his morning-chilled skin made her grumble but she didn’t wake up, not even when he nuzzled his nose into the soft hair on the nape of her neck and ran a hand over the curve of her rear end. She smelled good, like his Irish soap and peaches. And she felt even better. All toasty warm and as soft as a downy chick. He pushed the sheet off, so he could look at the sweet flesh he caressed. Her skin was as lily white as his ass. Except all over. He traced the bumpy trail of her spine up to her shoulders, then down again, before he
Completely mindless, Faith could only dig her head back into the pillow as Slate manipulated the flame into a full-fledged bonfire that soon consumed her. Then with one final sweep and stroke, he brought her back to earth.
He brushed a kiss on her forehead before he shifted away. In a hazy mist, she turned her head and watchedas he fumbled with something in the dark. It only took a second to figure out what it was.
“Do you think one will be enough?” she asked.
His head came up. “What?”
“One condom. Maybe you should use two.”
“Two? You got something I don’t want, darlin’?”
“No, I just thought…”
He slipped over her, his hands braced on either side of her head. “Don’t think.” He dipped down and kissed her lips. “Just feel.”
Always the good listener, Faith closed her eyes and just felt. Felt the heat of his breath on her face. The brush of muscle and lightly furred skin as he guided her legs apart with his. The nudge—then stretch—of smooth, hard muscle as he pressed deep inside, touching a spot she didn’t even know existed. She knew now. With each penetrating stroke, the intensity grew until her hips tipped and met him thrust for thrust.
Her second orgasm took her by surprise, coming hot and fast in jumpy little spasms. Slate followed closely behind, his head bent forward as he groaned out his release. His body was heavy as he sagged against her, but she didn’t mind the extra weight pinning her down to the crisp sheets. She liked the feel of being beneath him. Liked it so much she actually giggled.
He came up on his forearms and looked down at her. “Is there a problem?”
“No. No problem at all,” she said as she hooked her arms around his neck and pulled him down for another kiss.
Faith had just discovered something she liked better than red shoes and pink lip gloss.
And she planned to get her fill while she could.
Chapter Seven
S LATE STOOD NAKED IN THE DOORWAY OF THE TRAILER and stared out at the Texas sunrise. It wasn’t as spectacular as a sunset, but it was nice in its own right. Of course, spectacular or not, he’d rather be back in bed. And if Buster hadn’t had a bad case of the trots, he would be. Dang nuisance of a woman trying to kill his dog.
Buster ambled back up the steps and pressed against Slate’s leg, staring up with soulful eyes.
“Sorry, boy.” He scratched the dog behind his woolly ears. “She was just trying to be helpful. But in the future I’d keep a little distance if I was you.”
The dog pulled away and headed inside. Slate followed him back to the bedroom only to shake his head when Buster flopped down on the floor right next to Faith’s side. Obviously, the dog didn’t care if she killed him. In a little over a day, he’d grown attached.
Slate looked down at the woman who slept on her stomach with one hand dangling off the bed and one small foot peeking out from the sheet. Damn, if he didn’t know exactly how Buster felt. If Slate didn’t get her out ofthere fast, she would be the death of him, too. Or at least, the death of his coaching career and his sanity. Except he didn’t listen to his own advice, either. Instead of hopping in the shower, dressing, and getting on with the car search so he could then get on with his coaching responsibilities, he slid beneath the sheets.
The feel of his morning-chilled skin made her grumble but she didn’t wake up, not even when he nuzzled his nose into the soft hair on the nape of her neck and ran a hand over the curve of her rear end. She smelled good, like his Irish soap and peaches. And she felt even better. All toasty warm and as soft as a downy chick. He pushed the sheet off, so he could look at the sweet flesh he caressed. Her skin was as lily white as his ass. Except all over. He traced the bumpy trail of her spine up to her shoulders, then down again, before he
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