Free Turn Up the Heat by Serena Bell Page A

thumb was more intimate. Maybe because she was slightly below him on the stoop, looking up at him from under those lashes, shockingly innocent and vulnerable for someone who’d made it abundantly clear that she had a kinky side. And when he ran his thumb across her lip, so his fingerprint caught on a patch of chapped skin, her tongue came out and swept across the sensitive tip of his thumb. His cock twitched in response, and it wasn’t till it did that he realized where her hand was—resting on his upper thigh.
Her
thumb brushed over the hypersensitive head of his erection and he almost came in his briefs.
    Aaaaand
here he was again.
    He drew his hand away from her tempting mouth and scooted up a stair. Hearing, echoing in his head, Grant’s words:
    Do only what you absolutely have to. Keep your nose clean otherwise.
    Kincaid’s mind retorted,
By “have to,” Grant, what exactly do you mean?
    Because Lily was definitely a compulsion. An addiction, almost.
    “I’m dirty and sweaty,” Kincaid said. Translation:
This isn’t going to happen. You don’t want this to happen.
    She bit her lower lip. “I don’t care.”
    Fuck.
    She took the step he’d vacated, slipping herself back between his legs, tilting her head back, her lips already parted. He was such a goner. He bent his head and put his mouth to hers, loving the slickness of her tongue, the way she whimpered and grabbed for his shoulders. She was breathing hard, yanking his hair, digging her fingernails into his back, the nails barely finding purchase in the sweat from his landscaping exertions and from her being so near and so eager. He kissed her and kissed her, drowning in her mouth, forgetting to breathe, tugging her tighter between his legs so he could feel her belly against his torturous hard-on.
    “You make me crazy,” he blurted out.
    She pulled back to let him see her smile, then kissed him again.
    Maybe it was the slip of her tongue against his, maybe the way she squirmed, but he needed to hold her still, needed to keep her from moving restlessly like that, from sliding all over him and lighting up every square inch of his skin. He wrapped his hand in her hair, hard. Knowing it was too tight, knowing he was pulling. Jerking her head back so he controlled the kiss completely, the pressure, the depth of penetration. Telling her he’d control the sex that way, too, because he knew that was what she wanted to hear.
    She moaned and bit him, proving him right.
    Funny to know so much about someone, and so little.
    A car horn honked, Lily broke the kiss, and the driver shot them a dirty look.
    “Whoops,” Lily said breathlessly. “I don’t want to get my sister in trouble. You’d better come inside.”
    He wanted to. In all the possible ways. But the car horn had fired up his adrenaline and reminded him of how little leeway he had in this world. The next-door neighbor could come home and discover him
not
doing his work, and if he screwed up this job, he might not find another. If he went too far with Lily, if she changed her mind about wanting things rough, suddenly decided that
allowing
wasn’t the same as
consenting
—well, that could bring the cops.
    Better to slam this door with her than have the literal metal bars clanging the end of his brief freedom, before he’d even gotten a chance to try to find the will.
    “I can’t,” he said regretfully.
    Her face fell. She had one of those faces that showed everything, that couldn’t hide. Another thing he liked about her.
    “You never come into the diner anymore,” she said.
    “That’s because
this
is a bad idea,” he said, jabbing his finger to indicate what had just happened, the impossibility of resistance, the chemistry that made him so goddamned stupid.
    “Why?”
    “I am
not
your kind of guy,” he said.
    She glowered at him. “What kind of bullshit is that?”
    “I guarantee you I’m not.”
    “You think you know me?”
    “I know
that.
”
    “What kind of guy
are
you?”
    He