The Best Kind of Trouble. Lauren Dane

with his teeth and rolled it on quickly. “Now I can be in your pussy. Come on and ride.”

      She scrambled, straddling his lap. One-handed, she reached back to hold him where she wanted, and then he nearly blacked out when she slowly lowered herself on him.

      “Jesus.” Orgasm clawed at his guts, and he pushed it back because there was no way he’d finally gotten here, inside this woman, to come in a minute like he was sixteen.

      She rocked back and forth, and he dug his fingertips into the muscles at her hips. Her bottom lip caught between her teeth as she moved.

      “Mmm, yes. More.”

      A demand.

      He held her down at her hips as he began to thrust up into her body, slow and steady. Staying deep.

      The light was on in the hallway behind her so it glowed around her body as she moved. So beautiful, this woman.

      He let go of her hip with one hand to cup one of her breasts, taking the weight in his palm before pinching and tugging her nipple until her head tipped back, her mouth, still swollen from his kisses and his cock, opened on a sigh laced with desire.

      Her inner muscles gripped him and fluttered, and he nearly lost his mind. He held on, not wanting the moment to end. The scent of her skin, of her sex and desire rose and grasped nearly as tightly as her body did.

      He slid the hand at her hip between them, finding her clit swollen and ready. She hissed. “I can’t.”

      “Yes, you can. Come on, let me make you come again.”

      “I just did.” But her voice had gone deeper as he began to lightly slide the pad of his finger back and forth over her clit.

      “I really need to come, Nat. But I won’t until you do. Do it for me.” He grinned, and she groaned, moving to lean her head on his shoulder.

      “Is that your version of do it for America? Or just the tip?”

      Startled, he snorted a laugh until her body tightened around his, and she bit his shoulder hard as she came. He snarled, pulling her down on him, holding her in place as he pushed deep, as hard and deep as he could and followed her.

      He kept his arms around her until he had to get up. He carefully settled her back on the couch. “I’ll be right back.”

      She pulled a throw over herself, snuggling against the pillows.

      In front of the mirror in the adjacent bathroom, he stared at himself as he washed his hands. He wore a flush on his skin. Not the first time. Not even the first time with her.

      But things were different somehow because he wasn’t thinking about how he’d get her out the door. He couldn’t get the sight of her all naked and curled up on his couch out of his head.

      He wanted more of that. More of sleepy, relaxed Natalie Clayton in his house and in his life.

      He didn’t want to splash water on his face to snap out of his little fantasy. Because he didn’t want her off his skin.

      He forced himself to do it. He didn’t know why he was acting like a fuck-drunk dumbass but he needed to snap out of it.

      “Hey.” She smiled up at him when he came back into the room.

      “Hey, yourself. You should sleep over.” He wanted to punch himself for blurting that out.

      “I can’t. I have to work tomorrow.”

      Oh. Well. He should be glad. Women stole covers, and if you let them sleep over they assumed stuff. She was doing him a favor.

      But he found himself saying, “I have an alarm clock. Believe me, things get started early on a ranch. I’ll make you breakfast even.”

      She stood, the blanket she’d been using fell away, and he had to step closer to touch all that pretty, naked skin. She leaned into his touch briefly, tiptoeing up to kiss him.

      “Offers of breakfast are always appreciated. But I really do need to go home.”

      “Fine, fine. Deprive me of sleepy, warm woman for morning sex.”

      She snorted a laugh and then moved away, getting dressed.

      “You’re going home now?”

      “Well, I got what I wanted. I’m going home to notch my bedpost. Where I record all my wild sexual encounters with celebrities and stuff. See you around.”

      He blew a raspberry. “Be sure to mark two notches.”

      She grinned. “I’ll do that. Should I bring you a gold star the next time I see you?”

      He hugged her again because he could, and because he would see her again. And because she made him smile so much.

      “As long as it’s not an edible one.”

      She snorted and swatted his butt.

      After she’d gone, he’d gone to his bed to read awhile before going to sleep. Her scent rose from his skin, and when he woke up the next day, the faint stamp of her presence was still on his hands.