Free Just That Easy by Elizabeth Moore Page B

him
up, weigh what he was telling her, decide how she felt about it, and go for it.
Even for all her nerves, there was no hesitation, no coy pretend
I’m-not-sure-what-I’m-doing games. She wanted it, and she owned it.
    Seeing her eyes dance with the same need that was shooting
straight through him and his cock as hard and ready as it had ever been, he
stood abruptly, leaned over the table and grabbed a handful of her hair,
yanking those soft lips into his. The dishes on the table clattered as he fell
toward her but she didn’t seem to notice, reaching up and sliding her hands
around his neck as she opened her mouth to his searching tongue.
    “Christ, Teryn, I promised myself I wasn’t going to do this
again,” he growled into her neck as he swung himself around the table, reaching
around and scooping her right out of her chair and into his arms. “Where the
hell is your bed?” His mouth closed back over hers.
    With her lips crushed under his she couldn’t very well tell
him, but he saw her pointing in a general direction. He didn’t care if they
ended up on the floor, which if he didn’t manage to find her bed fast, they
would.
    Carrying her down the hallway, he stumbled into the walls
more than once, too consumed with her mouth to look at where he was going. He
got the impression of a room he’d love to spend a lot of time in as he finally
made it through the door with her. Interesting-looking things were everywhere
in here, like the rest of the house, but this room was more personal. It was
her. All her. It smelled like her. The bed was unmade and that didn’t surprise
him at all. It was perfect. It was what he needed. Someone who didn’t give a
shit about making everything in her house perfect, everything was here because
she loved it, period. Someone who couldn’t care less if you were supposed to
make your bed every morning. He carried her to it, falling in it with her.
Losing himself in a cloud of her, her smell, her bed, her most private space.
    Not even twenty-four hours.
    He looked down at her, the smoky look in her eyes, the need
there. The lack of worry there. Nothing but the two of them. This was the best
place he’d been in a long, long time. Maybe ever.
    What the hell was going on in his head?
    He slid his hands beneath her shirt, needing to feel those
soft, warm breasts. He squeezed them hungrily through her bra. He kissed her
again, hard. Not rough, but a devouring kiss, one designed to make her feel how
deep his need to have her was. Pushing her made her push back, and he liked it.
She bit his bottom lip. He nipped her back and she twisted beneath him, her
chest pressing harder into his hand. That fire. Those eyes. If he weren’t
careful, he was going to find himself drowning in needing her.
    Then came the feel of her hungry little fingers already
pulling at the button on his jeans, sliding her warm hand inside and grabbing
him hard. He felt her fingers slide over him, reaching deep this time to cup
his balls, rolling them gently. Making him groan into her mouth. And he felt
her smile. She knew what the feel of her hand did to him. He got even harder,
and her smile deepened. She teased him with her fingers, searching out the
wetness at the tip, spreading it over him. A burst of intense pressure making him
buck his hips into her with no warning, as she slipped the tip of her finger
into the slit, sliding it in just a little, gently, probing him. The air left
his lungs. The only coherent thought was that he had zero…no, less than zero
control when it came to her. And she knew it.
    He felt her other hand pushing into his chest. Through his
haze it took a moment to register she was pushing him up and off her. He sat
back, regretting that her hand pulled free of his greedy cock. Then she was on
her knees in front of him, yanking his shirt up over his head. Her fingers
traveled his skin, smoothing down over his shoulders, running over his bare
chest, raking lightly over his nipples. The groan she