The Wicked Pleasures Bundle (Wicked Pleasures: Volume 1/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 2/Wicked Pleasures: Volume 3) by Abbie Cole
Authors: Abbie Cole
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soothing. I feel cocooned with Jake from the rest of the world for the afternoon.
Glancing around, I lift a brow. I can’t wait to get Jake alone. It is long overdue. With plenty of hay, there is no reason we can’t be comfortable, even if I would prefer a soft bed somewhere, instead of rough, itchy hay.
In the barn below, I looked to see Jake still tending the horses. The rain shows no sign of stopping. Not that I’d expect it to; having seen the extent of the clouds, I know we might be trapped for hours, which is exactly what I hope for.
Turning my head and smiling, as his head cleared the loft floor, washed by the soft light falling through the open hay doors, I sit in the midst of a huge pile of hay, my expression welcoming, my body radiating a sensual tug to which I am sure he is already vulnerable. My body softening into the thick pile of hay, my eyes close, as a toasty, warm feeling radiates through the barn and the soft patter of rain makes relaxing music on the roof.
I hear Jake draw in a deep breath, and I open my eyes. Watching as he climbs the last rungs and steps onto the loft floor. With every evidence of his customary cool command, he strolls towards me. Jake is gorgeous. Big and broad and strong, he stands six foot three with jet black hair and always a mischievous twinkle in his eye. That’s what drew me to him the very first day we met. He always looks as if he is up to something and I have wanted to find out what.
He shatters my calm with just his smile. I swallow hard. My breath comes faster, and my heart races in my chest. I want to do more than sit together and look out at the rain and he looks the same. My eyes are instantly drawn to the bulge pressing insistently against the zipper of his jeans that he doesn’t bother to hide; my tongue instinctively flicks out to wet my dry lips.
I hold out my hand. He takes it, fingers closing firmly. He looks down at my face; I look into his eyes, bright green, warm and alluring.
I give him no time to think about anything—I tug; he sighs and sinks down to the straw beside me.
He must have a trick or two up his sleeve. Before I can turn to him, he wraps his arms around me and draws me back, settling the curve of my back against his side, so we can study the scenery together.
I relax against his hard, warm muscles, my softness, my curves, fitting against him.
I slide my hands over his arms that are currently wrapped around my waist; they come to rest on his hands, my palms curve over the backs of his hands pressing them against my quivering belly. Outside, the rain continues; inside, heat rises.
I turn to him. My head turns first—and my lips are mere inches from his, hovering hotly over his mouth. My body follows, sliding sensuously around in his arms; he tightens his grip, sinking his fingers into my soft flesh.
My gaze fixes on his lips and then I touch my mouth to his. His muscles tense, I can tell he strains to not crush me to him. We sink back into the hay, the pile compressed under our combined weights. Within seconds, we are close to horizontal, with me stretching against him, half-atop him. I feel him groan.
His lips part, and I kiss him—and he kisses me. His firm lips taking control. I moan, opening my mouth wider, kissing him deeply.
Jake rolls and presses me into the hay. I accept the change readily, clinging to our kiss. Jake deepens it, plundering my mouth, framing my face and drinking deeply; I meet him, sliding my hands under his T-shirt, spreading them, sending them questing over his thick, muscular chest, around his sides and back, his skin burns as I pull him closer and feel his chest press into me.
My hands, my lips, my body, arches lightly beneath him, urging him on. As he lifts my T-shirt and closes one hand over my satin covered breast, I sigh and kiss him more urgently.
Under his hand, my breast swells; my nipple is a tight bud under his
Glancing around, I lift a brow. I can’t wait to get Jake alone. It is long overdue. With plenty of hay, there is no reason we can’t be comfortable, even if I would prefer a soft bed somewhere, instead of rough, itchy hay.
In the barn below, I looked to see Jake still tending the horses. The rain shows no sign of stopping. Not that I’d expect it to; having seen the extent of the clouds, I know we might be trapped for hours, which is exactly what I hope for.
Turning my head and smiling, as his head cleared the loft floor, washed by the soft light falling through the open hay doors, I sit in the midst of a huge pile of hay, my expression welcoming, my body radiating a sensual tug to which I am sure he is already vulnerable. My body softening into the thick pile of hay, my eyes close, as a toasty, warm feeling radiates through the barn and the soft patter of rain makes relaxing music on the roof.
I hear Jake draw in a deep breath, and I open my eyes. Watching as he climbs the last rungs and steps onto the loft floor. With every evidence of his customary cool command, he strolls towards me. Jake is gorgeous. Big and broad and strong, he stands six foot three with jet black hair and always a mischievous twinkle in his eye. That’s what drew me to him the very first day we met. He always looks as if he is up to something and I have wanted to find out what.
He shatters my calm with just his smile. I swallow hard. My breath comes faster, and my heart races in my chest. I want to do more than sit together and look out at the rain and he looks the same. My eyes are instantly drawn to the bulge pressing insistently against the zipper of his jeans that he doesn’t bother to hide; my tongue instinctively flicks out to wet my dry lips.
I hold out my hand. He takes it, fingers closing firmly. He looks down at my face; I look into his eyes, bright green, warm and alluring.
I give him no time to think about anything—I tug; he sighs and sinks down to the straw beside me.
He must have a trick or two up his sleeve. Before I can turn to him, he wraps his arms around me and draws me back, settling the curve of my back against his side, so we can study the scenery together.
I relax against his hard, warm muscles, my softness, my curves, fitting against him.
I slide my hands over his arms that are currently wrapped around my waist; they come to rest on his hands, my palms curve over the backs of his hands pressing them against my quivering belly. Outside, the rain continues; inside, heat rises.
I turn to him. My head turns first—and my lips are mere inches from his, hovering hotly over his mouth. My body follows, sliding sensuously around in his arms; he tightens his grip, sinking his fingers into my soft flesh.
My gaze fixes on his lips and then I touch my mouth to his. His muscles tense, I can tell he strains to not crush me to him. We sink back into the hay, the pile compressed under our combined weights. Within seconds, we are close to horizontal, with me stretching against him, half-atop him. I feel him groan.
His lips part, and I kiss him—and he kisses me. His firm lips taking control. I moan, opening my mouth wider, kissing him deeply.
Jake rolls and presses me into the hay. I accept the change readily, clinging to our kiss. Jake deepens it, plundering my mouth, framing my face and drinking deeply; I meet him, sliding my hands under his T-shirt, spreading them, sending them questing over his thick, muscular chest, around his sides and back, his skin burns as I pull him closer and feel his chest press into me.
My hands, my lips, my body, arches lightly beneath him, urging him on. As he lifts my T-shirt and closes one hand over my satin covered breast, I sigh and kiss him more urgently.
Under his hand, my breast swells; my nipple is a tight bud under his
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