The Good Luck Sister (Wildstone #1.5)(14)

One hundred percent, the too skinny teenager had filled out in all the right places.

He glanced up. “I’m changing out of my wet clothes into dry ones.”

“Here?”

Instead of answering, he turned to rifle through the duffel bag and then shoved his jeans and boxers down and off, leaving him buck-ass naked.

With a shocked squeak, she covered her eyes, but when she heard his soft chuckle, she peeked out between her fingers.

“You’ve seen it all before,” he reminded her, pulling on a pair of black knit boxers before shaking out a pair of jeans.

“A long time ago!”

He looked amused as he pulled up the jeans and adjusted himself. “Nothing much has changed that I know of.”

That wasn’t true. He’d gone from boy to man, and his body reflected that. Utterly unable to stop herself, she moved toward him and ran a hand over the sleek, smooth muscles of his back as they shifted with his movements.

At her touch, he froze. Still turned away from her, he tipped his head back, eyes closed, and said her name in a low, husky, desire-filled whisper.

Swallowing hard, she watched her fingers trace a line down his spine, stopping only when the waistband of his jeans blocked her path. He’d left to give her a life, misguided and stupid as that was, not because he’d stopped feeling for her. He’d been hurt, badly . . . almost died.

“Keep doing that,” he murmured, still not moving, “and we’re going to break in my office with your bare ass on my desk and me buried deep inside you.”

She let her hand slip into the back of his jeans, loose since he hadn’t buttoned them.

“Tilly,” he said, his voice soft but the warning was clear. “Use your words. Tell me what you want or stop touching me.”

She knew what she didn’t want. She didn’t want to be warned away. She was tired of thinking. Tired of feeling . . . empty. She wanted to feel something, and the last person to make her really do that was Dylan. It felt right, and so did the handful of taut ass she squeezed.

He turned toward her, his eyes dark with desire as he caught her hands in his and drew them up and around his neck. “Say it, Tilly. I need to hear you say it.”

“I want you.”

He pressed his forehead to hers and closed his eyes. “Again.”

“I want you, Dylan. I always have.”

He sucked in a breath and his arms tightened on her. “Now?”

“Yes.”

“Here?”

“Yes.”

He lifted her up against him and set her onto his desk. Holding her gaze, he leaned past her and swept the desk clear, letting everything hit the floor.

It gave her both a laugh and a ridiculous shiver.

But Dylan wasn’t playing. “Cold?” he asked, his hands gliding up the outside of her thighs, encouraging them open so he could step in between, snugging their bodies up against each other.

“No. It was the cheesy gesture of knocking everything off your desk that got me.”

He met her gaze and at whatever he saw in hers, smiled. “I’ve got more cheesy moves.”

“Bring ’em on.”

He gave her one last very hot, very amused look before his mouth came down on hers. This kiss, unlike his others, was serious and most definitely heading somewhere, and it thrilled her. She explored his chest with her hands, slowly relearning the feel of him, following that with her mouth because she needed a taste.

With a groan, his hands went to her hips, squeezed, and then slid beneath the hem of her dress, his fingers toying with the lace edging on her undies.

“Dylan,” she whispered as his fingers found his way beneath the lace to tease her bare flesh, making her moan his name and him groan at finding her so ready for him.

One tug and she was bared to him, and it only took her a second to push his jeans back down and free him.

Their gazes met again and she could see the need and hunger she felt mirrored back at her.

But also a hint of doubt.

“Tilly—” he started but she surged up and took his mouth with hers.

“I want this,” she reminded him. “I want tonight, whatever we can give each other.”

Producing a condom, he leaned down and gave a soft, loving kiss that so thoroughly disarmed her that she gasped when he slid home. She was instantly swept away, lost in the sensations as he enveloped her into his arms and took her with a slow, steady rhythm that grew an ache into a flame, and a flame into a flash fire that consumed her.

Somehow she managed to open her eyes and watch the intensity on his face, which moved her almost beyond bearing. “Dylan,” she whispered.

He inhaled sharply and let out an unsteady breath, leaning into her to bury his face in the crook of her neck. His heat seeped through her so that she no longer felt the chill of the desk beneath her bare ass.

“You feel so damn good,” he murmured, nuzzling and kissing her neck, her jaw, her ear, all while continuing to move inside her until she let go with a cry of pleasure that took him along with her.

Her senses took a moment to return, a long moment, and the first thing she heard was a tinny male voice from somewhere on the floor.

“Hey, man, either you’re calling for help or butt dialing me.” Penn. “But it sounds like a good time is being had in there. Hello? Open the office door and let Leo in, he’s sitting there wanting his mama.”