Free Peaches 'n' Cream by Lynn Stark Page A

wriggled into it, the sweater bulking her up. They laughed together as he helped her with the sleeves. Then he was guiding her out of the restaurant, patently ignoring the knowing looks and the rowdy, suggestive calls from the Preston brothers. They paused only long enough to pay the bill and pick up the dozen pizzas Logan had ordered to go.
    “I take it you guys like pizza.”
    “Yeah. We’ll throw about half of them in the freezer. The rest we’ll probably finish off tonight and tomorrow.”
    “Ever heard of cardiovascular health?” she teased, allowing him to help her into the truck. When he stretched the seat belt across her and secured it, she continued to tease him,
    “Just couldn’t resist tying me up, could you?”
    Their faces were very close. His wayward cock stirred as he caught her scent. There was a hint of vanilla and raspberries. They stared at one another for a moment before he leaned toward her. When their mouths met Logan felt the intense jolt of lust like a fist in the gut.
    Groaning, he slid a hand behind her neck, holding her close for his kiss. Peaches responded to it, her lips parting, giving him access to the hot, wet interior of her mouth. Thrusting his tongue inside, he tasted her unique flavor, as well as the hint of beer and pepperoni. A unique combination, but one he found as pleasing as her hungry response.
    When he pulled back, they were both out of breath. “Fuck!” he muttered, backing up. The last thing he wanted was to be attracted to her. She wasn’t his kind of woman. Or was she?
    Damn, he had to give her a chance. The reminder made him growl low in his throat as he stared at her.
     
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    “Don’t worry, sweetheart,” she murmured, grinning. “It’s only the seat belt that’s got you going.”
    Sweetheart? Him? Fuck, he thought again, stepping back and slamming the door shut.
    He stomped around the front of the truck to climb in. The woman in the passenger’s seat was still grinning, obviously not in the least disturbed by the heat that had been shared by them.
    Sweetheart was so soft, so gentle. He was neither of those things. He wanted a woman who would bend to his will, submitting to it, accepting his dominance in their relationship, accepting what care and devotion he would provide in return. He would give the right woman everything.
    Ryan and Damien could be sweethearts. He wanted to be Master. Or Sir, at the very least, the title moaned from her lips as she discovered the pleasure they could achieve together.
    She wasn’t the right type of woman for him. The only soft thing about her was her name.
    Peaches. What had her mother been thinking? She wouldn’t bend. She wouldn’t submit. She would never accept his dominance. As for her properly addressing him as Master? The thought was almost laughable.
    “Uh, Logan.”
    “What?”
    “The truck’s on fire.”
    Swearing, Logan pulled the truck to the curb and jumped out. He grabbed the fire extinguisher from the backseat then popped the hood. Flames whooshed out from beneath it, heat flaring up. Pulling the pin, he aimed the hose. Within seconds the flames were extinguished, leaving a smoky, stinking mess.
    Standing there with Peaches beside him, they surveyed the damage. “That’s really ugly. I wonder what happened.”
    “Lord knows,” Logan muttered, tossing the extinguisher to the curb lawn in disgust. He heard a fire truck. The firehouse wasn’t too far away. “It’s a fucking new truck. I haven’t even had it two months.”
    If the night wasn’t going bad enough, the Preston brothers pulled up and jumped out of their trucks. The fire truck, lights flashing, parked behind them. Residents of the houses along the street began pouring out, some in pajamas and nightgowns, asking them if they were all right. Bored tourists were trotting down the street from the center of town. He suddenly felt like the ringmaster of a fucking circus.
    “Crap, Logan! That’s your new fucking truck!” Mick looked at the