Chapter 12
Charlie
The five minutes it takes me to grab what I need from the house seems like an eternity. And the drive into Stone Creek passes in a blur of dark pastures and fence posts, and every mile between the ranch and Pecan Street feels about three miles too long.
Rounding the corner on her street, I spot her truck already in the driveway.
Sunny is stepping out of the cab when I pull up to the curb, keys dangling from one hand.
The porch light catches the loose strands of hair around her face and the pink tank top hugging her curves that's been driving me to distraction all afternoon.
I cut the engine and cross the yard in long strides, my gaze traveling from her boots to her hips and that creamy strip of skin where that tank top has ridden up.
She watches me approach with her chin lifted and her keys swinging from one finger.
The challenge in her posture only makes the view better.
"That was quick," she says.
"I was motivated."
Her laugh is low, and the sound of it short-circuits whatever was left of my restraint. I reach for her waist and drag her against me, and her hands land on my shoulders as my mouth finds hers.
The kiss is not a greeting but a continuation of every loaded glance and whispered innuendo from the past few hours, and the urgency of it catches even me off guard.
Her fingers dig into the fabric of my shirt, and she makes a mewling sound against my lips that goes straight through me like a lit fuse.
"Inside," she murmurs between kisses.
She leans back enough to get the key in the lock, and I press against her from behind, my mouth finding the curve of her neck while she wrestles with the door. We stumble through, and my bag drops somewhere near the entry.
The living room is lit only by the glow from the kitchen, and in the low light, her blue eyes are enormous and dark with want. Her breath hitches as I cage her against the door, my hands braced beside her head.
Her fingers find the bottom of my shirt and tug. I help her strip it over my head, tossing it somewhere behind me. Her palms map the planes of my stomach and travel up to my shoulders, and the greedy reverence in her touch is like a lightning bolt to my groin.
My hands slide down her sides and grip the bottom of her tank top, peeling it over her head in one smooth motion.
The simple cotton bra underneath is the only thing between us.
She reaches back and unclasps it herself before I can, letting it fall, and the impatience in the gesture makes my blood run hot.
I cup her breasts, dragging my thumbs across her nipples, and the gasp she gives me echoes off the living room walls.
Her hands go to my belt. She works the buckle with quick, sure fingers as I kiss down the column of her throat, learning the places that make her tilt her head and press closer. The belt comes free, and she shoves my jeans down my hips with a determination that borders on aggressive.
"Bedroom?" I manage.
"Too far." She pushes off the wall and backs me toward the couch.
Pressing both palms to my bare abdomen, she pushes me down onto the cushions.
I drop heavily, and the view from here nearly stops my heart.
Sunny stands over me with her blonde hair tumbling past her shoulders.
The golden light gilds the curves of her body as she kicks off her boots and unbuttons her jeans, sliding them down her long legs.
She climbs onto me, one knee on either side of my thighs.
The contact of her skin against mine from hip to shoulder rips a groan out of me that I don't even try to contain.
Her mouth captures mine, and the kiss is all heat and tongue, the kind of hunger and impatience that builds when two people have been touching all day with no outlet.
I palm her ass, pulling her closer, and she rolls her hips against me, her thin cotton panties doing absolutely nothing to hide how ready she is.
Wrapping an arm around her waist, I flip our positions, dropping her flat against the cushions with her hair fanning out. She stares at me with flushed cheeks and parted lips, and the trust in her expression alongside the desire kicks a fierce, protective instinct to life behind my ribs.
The sweet smell of rose teases me as I kiss down her body, grazing her collarbone, the valley between her breasts, the soft skin below her navel where her stomach tenses under my mouth.
I hook my fingers into the waistband of her panties and drag them down her legs, pressing my lips to the inside of her knee, her inner thigh, the crease where her hip meets her leg.
She shivers and her hand finds the back of my head, her fingers threading through my hair.
"Charlie." My name comes out ragged, a half plea and half command.
I settle between her thighs and press my mouth against her, and the sound she makes fills the room and rewires something at the base of my skull.
Her hips buck, and I hook my arms around her thighs to hold her in place while I work her with my tongue, finding the rhythm that makes her breathing ragged.
Slipping two fingers inside, I curl them forward, and the combination tears a satisfying cry from her. Her hand fists in my hair and holds me there while her body clenches and releases in long, rolling waves, and I don't stop until her grip loosens and she melts into the couch.
I kiss my way slowly back up her body and find her mouth, and the hunger in her return kiss tells me she wants more.
Her grip wraps around my cock, and the contact sends a jolt from the base of my spine to the back of my skull.
She strokes me with a confidence and possessiveness that turns my vision hazy, her grip firm and her pace unhurried, watching my face with those blue eyes gone nearly black in the lamplight.
"I want to taste you," she whispers, and the words nearly end me.
She pushes me back and straddles my lap, her mouth tracing a path from my jaw to my neck to the center of my chest then further down my stomach.
When her lips finally close around me, the wet heat and the pressure of her tongue nearly make my head explode.
She takes me deep, her hand working in tandem with her mouth, and the sight of her blonde head moving in my lap is the most devastating thing I have ever seen.
She brings me close enough that my muscles lock and my breath stops before my fingers thread through her hair and gently tug.
"Not yet," I grit out. "I need to be inside you."
She climbs into my lap, and I reach for my jeans, fumbling for the packet of condoms I tucked in my pocket before leaving the ranch. She watches me roll it on with a look that combines impatience and amusement, and then she sinks down onto me in one fluid motion that makes us both go still.
"God, Sunny." My fingers dig into her ass hard enough to leave marks, every ounce of control I have focused on not ending this before it starts.
Lifting slowly, her hands brace on my shoulders, and the rhythm she sets is torturous, rolling her hips in circles that make my vision blur.
I grip her waist and let her lead for the moment, watching the play of lamplight across her skin, the way her lips part when she finds the angle that hits right.
Her nails bite into my shoulders, and the sting of it sharpens everything until I can feel her heartbeat where our bodies are joined.
I let her ride me until my control frays to nothing, and then I wrap one arm around her back and flip us. She lands on the cushions with a gasp, and I hook her leg over my shoulder, driving into her at an angle that makes her shriek, her back arching off the couch.
"Charlie!" My name tears out of her, raw and broken.
I pin her hip with one hand and brace the other against the armrest above her head, and from this angle I can see every reaction play across her face, every twitch, every gasp.
I set a relentless pace, reading her body and adjusting the rhythm in response to every shift beneath me.
Her free leg wraps around me, heel pressing into the small of my back, pulling me deeper.
"Right there," she gasps. "Don't stop."
I slip my hand between us and press my thumb against her, and the added pressure makes her shatter with a cry that I swallow with my mouth on hers.
The force of her release pulls me over the edge, and I come hard enough that the world narrows to nothing but the hot squeeze of her around me and the sound of my name breaking from her lips.
We lie tangled together on the couch, both of us breathing hard. Her fingers trace slow circles on my lower back, and my mind goes completely quiet.
After a while, I lift up, drawing her with me, and settle back against the couch, pulling a throw blanket over us. Her head nestles in the curve of my neck and she releases a contented exhale that hits me square in the heart.
"For the record," she says, her voice drowsy, "you were right. You did take care of everything that needed your attention."
"I'm a man of my word." I press my lips to her temple. "Though I may have missed a few things. Might need a follow-up visit."
She tickles my side, and I catch her hand and thread my fingers through hers. Crickets chirp somewhere beyond the walls, and the house settles around us.
Her phone buzzes on the coffee table, the screen lighting up with an unfamiliar number. She lifts her head from my shoulder and reaches for the phone, squinting at the display. Unknown caller. The puzzled crease between her eyebrows deepens.
"That's weird," she says. "Who calls at nine o'clock on a Sunday night?"
"Answer it. It could be someone interested in the tasting event." I nod at the phone. "It might be important."
She swipes to answer, tapping the speakerphone icon. "Hello?"