Page 8 of Mountain Man's Mail Order Mix-Up
That sounded like a challenge. Oh, I knew what I was doing all right. I knew what I wanted to do to her, anyway.
The silence stretched between us as we stared at each other. Finally, she broke the stare, but it was for good reason.
She slid the napkin from her lap and tossed it on top of her plate. I held my breath, not sure what she might do next.
Before I could decide what to do to encourage her to come closer, she began scooting. It was an awkward sideways move that involved occasionally stopping to readjust her skirt, which seemed to want to stay with her burger.
She was almost all the way to the curve in the wraparound booth when I realized I’d been sitting there waiting for her to come to me like an asshole. So I started scooting to meet her, inching my way to the right.
We met at the curve. Although my attention was fully on her, she was still staring straight ahead, almost as though she were afraid to make eye contact.
“I feel like a teenager, wondering if I should make a move,” I said, thinking out loud.
She squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them again and looked at me. Her expression was exactly what I needed to see right now. The heat had returned to her stare. And she licked her lips, as though preparing for the kiss she knew was coming.
But then she did something that shocked me. Her left hand landed on my right thigh. As my face inched toward hers, I tried to ignore the activity that was going on just a foot or so from where her hand rested. My dick pressed painfully against the back of my zipper, and I was grateful the table hid the bulge it was no doubt creating.
This was her first kiss. Her first time getting in any way physical with a guy. And that was why I stayed as still as I could while my mouth lowered to hers.
Brushing her lips gently at first, I used my tongue to part the seam of her mouth and gently deepen the kiss. It escalated so quickly, I wasn’t even sure who took it to the next level. All I knew was that her hand was moving up my inseam, and there was no way I could hold back the moan. It just slipped out.
She seemed to take that for the encouragement it was.
Her fingers traced higher, brushing the hard length of me through my jeans, and fuck, I couldn’t stop my hips from jerking toward her touch. She made a soft, curious sound against my mouth, like she was testing, learning—and then she did it again, firmer this time, her palm pressing down just right.
I broke the kiss with a rough exhale. “You sure you want to do this here?”
She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she leaned in, nipping at my bottom lip before sliding her tongue into my mouth, bold as hell. Her hand kept working me, slow strokes that had me gripping the edge of the booth to keep from flipping her onto her back right then.
I let my own hands wander, skimming up her thigh, pushing her skirt higher until I found bare skin. She gasped when myfingers dipped under the edge of her panties—satin,fuck—and I swallowed the sound, kissing her deeper.
“Tell me to stop,” I murmured against her lips.
She shook her head, her breath coming fast. “Don’t you dare.”
That was all I needed. I teased her through the thin fabric, feeling how wet she was already, and she arched into my touch with a whimper. The diner was empty, the blinds half-drawn, but anyone could walk in.
The risk should’ve sobered me up. Instead, it just made me harder.
Her fingers fumbled with my belt, and I helped her, popping the button on my jeans, shoving them down just enough to free myself. Her eyes dropped, her lips parting as she took me in, and Christ, the way she looked at me—like she wanted to devour me—nearly undid me right there.
“Next time,” I growled, wrapping her hand around me, showing her how I liked it, “I’m going to taste you first.”
She bit her lip, her strokes uneven but perfect, her thumb swiping over the head of my cock in a way that made my vision blur. I slid a finger under her panties, finding her hot and slick, and her hips jerked.
“Oh,” she breathed, her rhythm faltering.
I smirked. “You haven’t seen anything yet, sweetheart.”
And then I kissed her again, deep and filthy, because I knew—webothknew—this booth wouldn’t be the last of it.
5
MACKENZIE
Dang, this felt good. Better than anything had in my life. And we’d only just started.
West maneuvered me on the bench until I was on my back, my legs parted in front of him. It felt unladylike, but I had a feeling he wanted me to be anything but ladylike right now. And there was something freeing about that.
