Free Snowed In by Andie Devaux Page B

she happened to star in. Terrible. But she
couldn’t seem to stop herself.
    “What have you fantasized about?”
    “Do you really want to know?” His voice
deepened, and she squirmed in her seat.
    “Yes.”
    “I’ve thought about how it would feel to
have your wet lips wrapped around my dick while I fuck that smart
mouth of yours.”
    She gasped, but he didn’t pause for her
reaction.
    “I think about grabbing you by your hair and
bending you over the nearest table when you start in on one of your
corporate overlord rants. Pushing down your tight, paint-covered
jeans and finding your panties soaking wet for me. I wonder if your
pussy is as tight as I imagine?” A soft chuckle escaped him. “I’ll
bet coming all over my cock would shut you up for a while.”
    Fingers digging into the edge of the couch,
she found herself leaning toward him. A pool of want—need—built
inside of her, and her breathing was thready. His words should have
offended her. They weren’t words of love or sweetness and light.
The words were bad and dirty and somehow hot enough to bring her to
the edge of orgasm.
    She should have been worried that something
was wrong with her, but she couldn’t think past the images he’d
planted even more firmly in her head.
    “What do you think of that, Carrie?” He
didn’t move a muscle, still sitting as if relaxed on the loveseat
across the coffee table from where she sat on the couch. But his
voice was tight. The man wasn’t the cool cucumber he wanted her to
think he was.
    “I think that you’re a rough-talking
asshole.”
    “I think you want to be fucked by a
rough-talking asshole.”
    She gasped again, and couldn’t say for sure
if it was entirely because of shock, or if part of her, a larger
part than she would ever admit, found the way he talked to her
sexy.
    “Is this turning you on?”
    “No!” she lied.
    With a quick motion, he got up from the
loveseat and made his way to the couch, sitting close enough that
his knee brushed hers.
    Already tense, her muscles tightened
further.
    “Let’s be real here, Carrie.” He reached up
and slid her hair behind her shoulder, his hand brushing her neck
and sending a shiver through her body. “We don’t get along. We have
entirely different views of the world. That’s probably not going to
change. But that doesn’t mean we aren’t attracted to one
another.”
    She snorted. “You’re right on that—the first
part anyway.”
    “You’re not attracted to me?” He leaned in
and she could feel his breath move against her ear. The smell of
wine and the tiniest bit of cologne touched her nose, and she
struggled not to take a deep breath, inhale his scent.
    “Of course not.”
    “I think you’re lying,” he murmured.
    Yeah, she was lying, but lying was her last
defense. This was such a terrible idea. Sure, it could be amazing,
but how likely was that—beyond the sex? There would be fallout.
Consequences. God, he smelled good.
    “I don’t think this is a good idea.” Despite
her words, she took a deep breath, taking in his scent. She hadn’t
thought it possible to get even more turned on, but his smell
pulled at something in her. Something basic and needful and
hungry.
    Bryan seemed undeterred by her words. He
slid the back of his fingers down her upper arm, and the touch sent
a current straight through to her sex.
    “Let me lay it all out here for you, Carrie.
I don’t know why—it makes no logical sense—but I find you goddamned
fascinating for some reason. I can’t seem to get you out of my
head.”
    Couldn’t get her out of his head? The words
didn’t compute in her mind—they didn’t make logical sense. She’d
never even suspected. But now the thought wouldn’t leave her. What
would it be like to be with this domineering, arrogant, sexy
man?
    Screw it. She wanted—needed—to know the
answer to that question. It wasn’t like she had anything to lose.
They weren’t friends—they barely got along well enough to make