Free Naked Truth (Crimson Romance) by Tami Lund Page A

she’d told him at the wedding that she didn’t normally do one-night stands. Considering Cullen and Sabrina had gotten married only a month ago, he felt reasonably confident she hadn’t met a new guy in the interim. Or if she had, she wasn’t already sleeping with him.
    He hoped.
    “Is something wrong? Is Sabrina okay?” She sounded faintly breathless, and he knew she was moving, heading his way.
    “She’s fine. Everyone’s fine. Just open the goddamned door.” He pulled a condom out of his pocket and palmed it as he shifted from foot to foot.
    Finally, he saw an image behind the etched glass. He winced as the porch light flared to life. The lock snicked, and the door began to open. Jack didn’t give her time to think. He pushed it open, stepped inside, and shoved it closed, locking it and disconnecting his phone at the same time. He grabbed her face with both hands and pressed her against the wall as his lips crashed down on hers, desperate to feel her, to taste her.
    He felt like he was drowning but in heaven all at the same time. It was arousing as hell.
    Kennedy broke the kiss and twisted her head before she reached up and pulled one of his hands away from her cheek. “What is that?” she asked, and she plucked the wrapped condom out of his hand.
    “Oh,” she said as she stared at the small square with the round imprint in the middle.
    “I need this, Kennedy,” he said, cupping her face again. “I need you. That place. That song. Seeing you there. I’m so fucking horny right now, I feel like I’m about to explode. Please don’t say no.” He was pleading, and he didn’t even care. He would do whatever it took, just so long as he could feel her again tonight.
    “I … oh … okay.”
    “Thank fucking God,” Jack breathed, and he bent over, grabbed her thighs, and lifted her off her feet. She wrapped her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck.
    “Where’s your bedroom?”
    She pointed down the hall to the right, so he carried her that way. Her bedroom was at the end of the hall, in the back corner of the ranch home. He dropped her onto the bed, which was a simple queen with a basic wooden headboard that had plenty of nicks and scratches. He leaned over her and untied the sash of her robe, pushing the material aside to reveal a lace-trimmed camisole and a pair of boxer shorts. He climbed onto the bed and buried his face in her cleavage.
    “You took a shower,” she said. “But you still smell like baby oil.”
    “Sorry,” he said, not really sorry at all. “You’re okay with this? You aren’t going to regret this in the morning?”
    “It’s already morning. And I don’t regret it.”
    He sat up and tugged off his shirt, then pulled off his jeans. He reached down and pulled her camisole over her head, slid her boxers down to her ankles.
    “You are so beautiful,” he whispered reverently. “I want to take my time and kiss every damn inch, but …”
    “It’s okay,” she assured him.
    He kicked off his boxers and snagged the condom she still held in her hand. “I have more,” he promised, and then he sheathed himself, nudged her thighs apart with his knee, grabbed her hips, and thrust. He gurgled out a guttural, groaning noise as the sensations slammed into him, sending him almost instantly spiraling out of control. He dropped his forehead onto the pillow next to her head and began pushing into her, hard and fast, completely lost in the moment, almost entirely lost in his own need. He was vaguely aware of Kennedy crying out, and he hoped to hell she found her release because he couldn’t hold back, couldn’t have stopped if the fucking world collapsed at that very moment.
    He thrust one last time, arched his back, and shouted out his release as pleasure tore through him. He only just managed to roll onto his side so that he didn’t crush her before he was asleep.
    • • •
    He was still in her bed when she woke up later that morning. She wasn’t sure why she was