Free Bayou Bad Boys by Nancy Warren Page A

was thinkin’ it’d be nice if just one of those women had decided to show off her softer side.” His lips dipped into the cleavage framed by the white lace. “And talk about soft.”
    Emma trembled as his tongue stroked over her straining nipple.
    â€œ Bon Dieu , you are one tasty female.”
    â€œIt’s the lotion.” Emma gasped when his teeth closed around a tightened nipple and tugged. “Roxi blended it especially for me. From essential oil of peaches, vanilla, and coconut.”
    â€œWhat I’m tastin’ sure isn’t peaches. You taste like temptation, you. And sex. I’ve a mind to lick you all over.”
    Her skirt had an elastic waist, and fastened with a hook-and-eye and zipper in the back. Proving himself to be a man who definitely knew his way around women’s clothing, he dispatched the hook with a simple twist of the fingers.
    Emma drew in a sharp breath when his knuckles brushed against the bare skin of her back.
    The sexy sound of the zipper, slowly lowering, tooth by tooth, had her wet with wanting.
    The silk skirt whispered over her skin as it slid down her thighs to pool on the floor at her feet, leaving her standing there, in the center of the cabin, barely clad in a bra that was clinging to the tips of her breasts, a pair of panties, and those shoes, which must make her look like a porno actress in one of those Voluptuous Vixens DVDs she’d seen for rent in the back room of the Video Express.
    Some women—like Roxi—might be able to get away with wearing barely there underwear and high heels. Emma had never believed herself to be one of them.
    â€œDon’t,” he murmured when one hand instinctively went to her breasts, the other to conceal her crotch. “Don’t cover up anything. And don’t move. I want to see you.”
    Well, that was sure as hell going to blow her midnight-stuck-in-a-cabin-with-Gabe-Broussard fantasy right out of the water.
    He was standing there, taking her in, studying her slowly, silently, as if memorizing every curve.
    â€œI don’t think this is such a good—”
    â€œShh.” He touched a finger to her lips, forestalling her complaint at being looked at like a . . . what?
    A sex object.
    Which was impossible. No one had ever looked at her in this scorchingly hungry way Gabriel was looking at her. If even the smallest percent of what the tabloids were always saying was true, Gabe had slept with some of the most beautiful women in Hollywood. In the entire world. Women with “buns of steel” asses, Bowflex-tight stomachs, and pert, perfect breasts.
    Emma didn’t even want to think about how she might compare to all those past lovers.
    It had been hard enough to make the decision to throw caution to the wind and sleep with Gabriel. To stand still for such an intense study from a man whose beautifully formed physique could have been immortalized in marble and gleaming bronze, chipped away at Emma’s hard-won confidence.
    â€œYou are,” he said, “without a doubt, the most—”
    Fat , her mind jumped ahead of his words. Though she doubted it’d help all that much, Emma sucked in her oh-so-not-flat stomach.
    â€œ Female woman I’ve ever seen.” His eyes, which lust had darkened to nearly a midnight black, looked into hers as he fondled her heavy breasts. “J’aimete faire l’amour avec toi.” His deep voice was as thick as gumbo. “I wanna make love to you the way a woman like you deserves to be made love to.”
    Emma trembled when he ran those treacherously clever hands hand down her sides, then back down her spine, over the curve of her bottom.
    â€œYou’ve got a great ass, you.” He splayed the fingers of both hands over each cheek, began kneading her flesh. Her white, abundant flesh.
    â€œA big ass, you mean.”
    Emma wished she could take the words back the instant she’d heard them escape her