It feels so good.”
“Good doesn’t come close.” A wicked glimmer burned deep in his blue eyes. Animalistic lust chiseled his face into a sensual grin. A fizzle of excitement bubbled and churned in her stomach. He hooked his forefingers in her belt loops and tugged her hips to his. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if you were wearing a skirt.”
“Not willing to work for it, Bram?”
The challenge flared in his eyes. “Oh, I’m going to work for it.” The primitive look softened for a split second, and he pressed his lips to hers in a feather kiss then pushed at her hips. “Go back and sit down.”
A strange disconnected euphoria encased her. This evening was too fantastical to imagine. This morning, she had been stuck in her mundane, everyday life with her stalker-ex, and now, the best night of her life paid her a visit in living color. Bram had risen from rebound guy to the one who got away, but fate had stepped in and brought him back into her life. She should make an offering, light a candle or sacrifice something because this was a gift she wasn’t going to take for granted.
The overhead light snapped off with a loud, cold click, plunging the room into shades of gray. Automatic service lights flared along strategic points, illuminating the ceiling and softening the rest of the room to a wash of shadow. The wide ledge had grown ice-cold and she shivered when it touched her flushed skin. The heavy fragrance of Bounce and Downy had become commonplace for her, but now there was a new scent that made her nose tingle—anticipation. Her skin felt lonely without his touch but when he turned toward her, her breath caught.
He had the scissors from beneath the counter and a sinful, wicked slant to his brow. He worked the scissors and the quick snicksnick of the blades sent her heart to racing. Bram settled into the chair in front of her and popped the lid off of his soda cup. The scissors went in the cup, blades down.
“What are you doing?”
His palms landed on her knees and opened her thighs. Beneath her ribs, her heart thudded. What was he doing with the scissors? He swirled the shears in the cup, ice and metal clinking together in a high-pitched crash. Air sailed past her lips in great gulping bursts. He lifted her knees, draping them over his own until she was spread before him. One hand slid higher until his thumb slid under her cutoffs and grazed her slick center.
“Christ, you’re wet already.” Bram looked dangerous in an erotic, tempting way. Removing his thumb, he brought it to his lips, licking the shimmer of moisture from his skin. She shuddered. A feral look carved deep into his face. Desire had lidded his eyes, and he moved in the sensuous languid manner of a great cat stalking his prey, all lithe lines and compact control. Her gaze locked with his and she trembled not from fear but on a sexual buzz.
“Part of being a firefighter meant we got called out on car accidents.” His voice soothed and enflamed her at the same time, like a naughty lullaby guaranteed to give her wet dreams all night long. “It’s a very delicate operation to free someone from a wrecked vehicle. Did you know that? One cut, one misplaced slice, and you could hurt the person you’re trying to rescue. It took a lot of training and practice to know exactly how to position the blades.”
He pulled the scissors from the soda cup. A fine coating of liquid dripped off the pointy ends, and he angled it to drop on her thigh. The splash was ice cold and burnt with a lusty fire. Her chest heaved with her swift breath, and she focused on the sharp blade tip inching closer to her knee. It grazed her skin in a frozen, feathery stroke.
“Now, I stopped being a firefighter over three years ago. The question is, how much skill have I lost? Can I still find that one sweet spot to make the perfect cut?”
The glacial metal skimmed the inside of her thigh leaving a hair-fine line of moisture. Slower than time on a summer
“Good doesn’t come close.” A wicked glimmer burned deep in his blue eyes. Animalistic lust chiseled his face into a sensual grin. A fizzle of excitement bubbled and churned in her stomach. He hooked his forefingers in her belt loops and tugged her hips to his. “This would be a hell of a lot easier if you were wearing a skirt.”
“Not willing to work for it, Bram?”
The challenge flared in his eyes. “Oh, I’m going to work for it.” The primitive look softened for a split second, and he pressed his lips to hers in a feather kiss then pushed at her hips. “Go back and sit down.”
A strange disconnected euphoria encased her. This evening was too fantastical to imagine. This morning, she had been stuck in her mundane, everyday life with her stalker-ex, and now, the best night of her life paid her a visit in living color. Bram had risen from rebound guy to the one who got away, but fate had stepped in and brought him back into her life. She should make an offering, light a candle or sacrifice something because this was a gift she wasn’t going to take for granted.
The overhead light snapped off with a loud, cold click, plunging the room into shades of gray. Automatic service lights flared along strategic points, illuminating the ceiling and softening the rest of the room to a wash of shadow. The wide ledge had grown ice-cold and she shivered when it touched her flushed skin. The heavy fragrance of Bounce and Downy had become commonplace for her, but now there was a new scent that made her nose tingle—anticipation. Her skin felt lonely without his touch but when he turned toward her, her breath caught.
He had the scissors from beneath the counter and a sinful, wicked slant to his brow. He worked the scissors and the quick snicksnick of the blades sent her heart to racing. Bram settled into the chair in front of her and popped the lid off of his soda cup. The scissors went in the cup, blades down.
“What are you doing?”
His palms landed on her knees and opened her thighs. Beneath her ribs, her heart thudded. What was he doing with the scissors? He swirled the shears in the cup, ice and metal clinking together in a high-pitched crash. Air sailed past her lips in great gulping bursts. He lifted her knees, draping them over his own until she was spread before him. One hand slid higher until his thumb slid under her cutoffs and grazed her slick center.
“Christ, you’re wet already.” Bram looked dangerous in an erotic, tempting way. Removing his thumb, he brought it to his lips, licking the shimmer of moisture from his skin. She shuddered. A feral look carved deep into his face. Desire had lidded his eyes, and he moved in the sensuous languid manner of a great cat stalking his prey, all lithe lines and compact control. Her gaze locked with his and she trembled not from fear but on a sexual buzz.
“Part of being a firefighter meant we got called out on car accidents.” His voice soothed and enflamed her at the same time, like a naughty lullaby guaranteed to give her wet dreams all night long. “It’s a very delicate operation to free someone from a wrecked vehicle. Did you know that? One cut, one misplaced slice, and you could hurt the person you’re trying to rescue. It took a lot of training and practice to know exactly how to position the blades.”
He pulled the scissors from the soda cup. A fine coating of liquid dripped off the pointy ends, and he angled it to drop on her thigh. The splash was ice cold and burnt with a lusty fire. Her chest heaved with her swift breath, and she focused on the sharp blade tip inching closer to her knee. It grazed her skin in a frozen, feathery stroke.
“Now, I stopped being a firefighter over three years ago. The question is, how much skill have I lost? Can I still find that one sweet spot to make the perfect cut?”
The glacial metal skimmed the inside of her thigh leaving a hair-fine line of moisture. Slower than time on a summer
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