Free Rough Tumble by Keri Ford Page B

to the next.
    “I don’t know.”
    “I know.”
    “I don’t want to screw up what we have.”
    “I know.” He sighed. The kisses stopped.
    Her heart dropped to the pit of her stomach. Lay there like a bleeding, disappointing lump that was going to weigh her down. “It’s not that I don’t want this. I do.”
    “Me too.”
    “Do we need to think about it?”
    He shifted. The hard, long firm ridge of his member stroked against her. Oh God. Could she be done thinking now? Please?
    His hand caressed up her arm. “Do you want to think about it?”
    “Not so much.”
    He cupped her cheeks and leaned against her, turned her face to him. His breaths were full, deep, forcing his chest to press to her then releasing. “Then what are you doing thinking?”
    She shook her head and gripped his shoulders enough to know she wasn’t planning to let him go. “No idea. I blurted. I shouldn’t blurt. No one should blurt, really. Should be outlawed.”
    He leaned forward, put his mouth over hers and shut her up. Thank god, cause it didn’t look like she was going to anytime soon, which was two levels way past dumb, because oh my, oh my.
    His mouth was some part of heaven. Surely. Had to be. Sweetened from sugar cake. Spicy from him. He pressed easy, then rougher. Her head fell back and he pressed against her. Hands slid from her shoulders and arms down her waist, back under her shirt again. Oh yes, oh yes, oh yes .
    He wadded the shirt in his hands, lifting. She didn’t want to, but she released his shoulders to lift her hands. No idea where her shirt landed. No idea where his landed after she stripped it off either. He gripped her by the hips, jerked her forward to the very edge of the counter.
    Her forehead was on his. Noses nearly touching. She stared into him as he stared back. Was he asking? Was he waiting? She wasn’t waiting. Not anymore. She leaned into him, pressed her mouth back to his, wrapped her legs around his waist.
    That was it. For the waiting or pausing or second-guessing or maybe just staring into her eyes for a moment. She didn’t know. He pulled her off the edge of the counter. His hands cupped her ass, fingers curled and squeezed as he turned and carried her to the living room.
    She released him for a moment, for air first. “My bedroom is the other way.”
    “I know.”
    “We can go in there.”
    “We’re not.”
    His mouth covered back over hers and who gave a shit where they landed? Not her. Not a chance. The couch was closer anyway. She was flat on her back and he was on top of her.
    Hello, heaven. Nice to see you.
    His weight stretched comfortable across her body. Every last inch of her thrilled to the nines for having this moment. With him and then just having it. Being touched. Being wanted. Being desired. It seemed ages ago. The touch of a man, his weight, scent, heat, all of it so foreign nearly.
    So forgotten.
    With Trent, it was new. Awakening. Fresh. Dare she say it, nearly like the first time? His lips against her jaw, down her neck. Her toes curled, and all over she tingled. Yes, yes she could say it. It was so much like the first time. Only thousands of times better.
    He pushed to his elbows, and simply smiled. No rush. No hurry. Deep eyes she could lay here and become lost in. So close that she could clearly see the flecks of gold and darker browns in his green eyes.
    He pushed hair away from her face and cupped her cheeks again. Kept her face lifted to him and just held her a moment.
    Her arms were pinned under him, so she wrapped him best she could around his sides and back. Considering how broad he was, it wasn’t much.
    He leaned forward and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I want this. I have wanted it for a while.”
    “Me too. It’s part of why I told you the truth.”
    His brow lifted and realization ran over her brain.
    “I mean, I didn’t just tell you so we could do this. I wanted to tell you because we’re friends, and I was tired of lying. I had hoped it could