Over the Line by Sierra Cartwright Page B

to observe Sydney’s unguarded moments had been irresistible, despite the hard-on urging him to grab her, pin her beneath him and slake his morning lust.
    He’d heard her moving about the kitchen then smelt the aroma of brewing coffee. He’d taken his time pulling on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt. But before he’d made it down the stairs, he’d heard the front door close. He’d noticed her leather dress was still artfully draped across a chair, and her purse sat on the counter where she’d left it, so he wasn’t concerned that she was leaving without saying goodbye.
    Curious, though, he’d grabbed a cup of coffee. As a testament to how he felt about her, he hadn’t even minded that she’d taken the cream from the top of the milk.
    Barefoot, he’d wandered to the window. He’d enjoyed watching her interact with Chewie. He’d always figured he could learn a lot about a person based on the way they treated animals. Watching her tentatively reach out to pet the goat behind the ears had made him smile. Chewie was a decent judge of character, much like some dogs Michael had owned. And the way she’d trotted along next to Sydney as they’d headed towards the river had told him a lot.
    Taking his time, he’d headed upstairs to finish dressing. While he’d been putting on his clothes, he’d been mentally stripping hers off. Now he intended to do it in reality. “I want to kiss you,” he said.
    He put a hand in her hair and held the back of her head. He met her gaze, and he realised he could get lost in the blue depths of her eyes. They communicated her true emotion better than what came out of her mouth. If she knew he saw that, she’d be scared.
    “Sir, I’d rather we just—”
    “Sydney? Use a safe word or shut up.” He prised apart her hands then pulled her between his legs. She was on her knees, and he was tugging her head back. He brushed his lips across hers. “Soft,” he told her.
    “Yes…”
    This time, he licked her upper lip.
    “That’s sexy,” she said.
    He drew her bottom lip between his teeth and bit down with the slightest pressure.
    She tipped back her chin.
    “Open your mouth to me.” He tightened his grip in her hair and yanked on the shirt to reveal her creamy chest.
    She parted her lips, and he pressed his tongue to hers. She moaned from deep inside, and the slight sound of her capitulation galvanised him. He sought more, wanting her total surrender. She tasted of coffee, of morning, of promise.
    He deepened the kiss and she responded, moving so she could wrap both her arms around him, knocking off his hat. Even if she wanted to hide who she really was, she was honest with her desires. He appreciated that, if nothing else.
    She met each of his thrusts. He reached inside her shirt to caress one of her breasts, knowing she was probably tender. It wouldn’t take much to arouse her, but he didn’t want to make her too sore…yet. When he whipped her front later, he wanted her to enjoy the feel of deer hide biting at her nipples.
    Boldly, she moved one hand lower and curled it over his growing cock. Now he wished he’d dressed in something other than jeans. He adjusted their positions, dragging her closer. She met his intensity with ferocity of her own. Still, he was in control, just as he should be.
    By small measures he ended the kiss and eased his grip. “I should have done that last night. A dozen times last night,” he amended.
    “I don’t normally kiss,” she said.
    “You do now.”
    “I suppose that’s true, Sir. And since your hat seems to have fallen off…” She moved to press her palms against his chest. “We should get started on my offer.” Diligently she set to work on his shirt, unfastening the buttons and pulling the hem from his waistband.
    He let her lead. For now.
    She shucked the material from his shoulders. She fumbled with the metal button of his jeans but continued until she released it. The zipper was another story. “I think your cock is making