Full Throttle (Black Knights Inc. #7)(35)

“Carlos.” She pulled back to look at him. Her eyes were bright. Their color two shades lighter than the vibrant jungle around them.

Nobody used his given name anymore. Hell, even he now thought of himself as Steady. And it was the sheer novelty of it, of hearing Carlos on someone’s tongue—on her sweet tongue in particular—that accounted for the fact that his body reacted the same way it would had she pressed her lips to his belly. At least that’s what he told himself when his scrotum tightened until it was almost painful.

“What, cari?o?” His heart beat wildly with the thrill of her nearness. Up close like this, he could appreciate how her skin shone with health under a thin dew of sweat. He could count each of the faint freckles smattered across her button nose. He could easily see how her little chin trembled ever so slightly when her eyes darted down to his lips…and held there.

He stilled, every cell in his body coming to a screeching halt. If he were a bird dog, he’d be on point. Woof! Was it possible that she—

“If…if I…told you something…” She licked her lips, her tongue flashing pink. Puta madre! He may have been on point before, but now his whole body was as tight as a piano wire.

She must have noticed the sudden change in him, because her breath hitched and she quickly glanced into his eyes.

What he saw in her expression struck him dumb. He would have expected chagrin or despair or, hell, even pity. Those were the looks she’d given him when he’d decided to press his luck and seek her out after Rosa’s funeral. So the hot, unbridled, unmistakable flames of lust glowing in her eyes caught him completely off guard.

Okay, was it possible that here, in the jungle, she didn’t care about his pedigree…or lack thereof? Or was it possible the years of separation, or years of maturity, had made her realize that, when it came to the kind of chemistry they had, there was no such thing as being born on the wrong side of the tracks? Did he dare hope? Unlike eight years ago, there was nothing holding him back from giving her the full court press if he thought she might welcome it. She was no longer that naive young girl who needed to be approached gently, carefully. She was a full-grown woman, and if—

She licked her lips again. For one wild and crazy moment, he wondered if it was an invitation. And even if it was, should he risk acting on it?

Okay, that’s a question? Of course you should act on it! Because maybe, just maybe, it was possible to win the fair lady.

Hardly breathing, he lifted his hands to her face, spearing his fingers into her hair at the same time he cupped her sweet jaw between his palms. Lowering his chin, his heart thundering so quickly it would’ve busted an EKG machine had he been hooked up to one, he watched her swallow jerkily. Then her mouth fell open, and her breaths came more quickly.

Now there was no mistaking that for the invitation it was. Especially when she again murmured, “Carlos.” His body flashed hot as the sun, his dick doing jumping jacks inside his cargo pants.

“Abby,” he whispered against her lips, not kissing her, simply allowing their breaths to mingle, to merge. In and out. In and out. Give and take. Wondering if she’d have second thoughts and stop him. Praying she wouldn’t…

And damned if the simplicity of the moment, of sharing the air between them as they stood close, so close, wasn’t one of the most erotic things he had ever done. It was so simple, so sweet, and so f*cking hot. Passion fizzed through his veins, tightening the skin over his scalp, making him tremble.

Did she feel it? Did she have a clue what she was doing to him?

She must have, because the next instant she moaned. It was a sound of longing…of yearning. The age-old cry of woman to man.

He answered it.

Closing his eyes, he did what he’d been dreaming of doing for nearly a decade. And the instant his mouth touched hers, he knew he was a goner. Not just because somehow every single one of his nerve endings had moved to his lips, but also because Abby was everything he’d dreamed she’d be. More. Her mouth was soft. So invariably soft and plump and delicious. So delicately feminine. Did he mention soft?

He angled his head to more fully align their lips, and that’s when Abby went and shocked the ever-loving shit out of him. Because he’d always assumed, should she allow him this pleasure, she’d be hesitant, sweet but passive.

Holy hell! She wasn’t passive. She was passionate. She wasn’t hesitant. She was hungry! Stabbing her fingers into his hair, she opened her mouth, plunged her tongue between his teeth, and proceeded to try to eat him alive.

If she succeeds, I’ll die a happy man…

*

I shouldn’t be doing this!

It was the second time the thought screamed through Abby’s brain. But once again, she chose to ignore it.

Yes, she shouldn’t be doing this. She shouldn’t be kissing Carlos like her life depended on it. She shouldn’t be sucking his tongue into her mouth as if the world would end if she didn’t. But she’d wanted this for so long. Wanted him for so long. And she’d never dreamed he might want her, too. Not in her wildest fantasies could she have imagined smart, sexy Carlos Soto would be interested in her.

Yet here he was…his thick fingers speared into her hair, his hard palms framing her face and showing her just what to do, how to kiss him. And every dart of his tongue, each hot glide between her lips might as well have been a wicked lick to the center of her sex. She burned and would have sworn on a stack of bibles she was seconds away from going up in flames. Just poof! A human torch…