“Did you get a…? Oh, I see you did.” Sorcha's creamy complexion held shades he'd only ever seen in Arizona sunsets. The way the tawny golds feathered to pink on her cheeks fascinated him.
“It's your birthday,” he said. “McDonald's?”
“Grams did the cooking.” One shoulder lifted and she smiled.
Fuck, what a perfect smile, rosy lips lifting at the corners, sculpting twin dimples in her cheeks.
“I never learned. And I didn't figure on driving for two hours to get decent takeout.”
“But McDonald's?” Gray knew he wore a pained grimace. Snatching the Coke bottle off the granite, he took a good slug of the icy liquid and waited for her reaction, hoping she wouldn't be offended.
“It's the closest,” she said as she marched over to the table and grabbed the merlot.
“Sorry, didn't mean to upset you.” Cock and brain connected. “Hey, I haven't had dinner yet. And I can cook. I'll throw something together, and we can have a nice meal and catch up.”
How old were the condoms in the glove box? Crap, think, think.
Her jaw dropped open, and if he thought she blushed before, she put on a kaleidoscope show now. Did she blush like that all over? Oh gods above, if there is a heaven, let her pussy blush like that when he got up close.
And only then did he notice what she almost wore. Gray gulped. He blurted, “Honey, I hope that dress is an invitation.”
“I was going to invite you to stay.” She wouldn't make eye contact for more than a blink at a time.
He almost dropped the Coke, her words the conflagration that destroyed his self-control, the fulcrum of the life he'd built to deny his bestiality. His cock, already impossibly hard, thickened to the point of pain.
“But there is a problem.”
Fuck no. Please, please, no.
Gray daren't get any closer, and he wished he had something in his other hand.
“Problem?” he croaked, his vocal cords strangling on the word, his prick weeping its loss.
“I arrived today, and I haven't had time to stock up.” She chewed on a cherry-ripe bottom lip.
“That's the problem?” Hope pushed oxygen into previously choking lungs.
She nodded.
“There's no other problem?” The cop in him had to get all obstacles out of the way; the beast in him battered his rib cage, wrestling civilized veneer into a stranglehold.
She shook her head.
“Say it aloud, Sorcha. 'There is no other problem, Gray.'”
“There is no other problem, Gray,” she whispered, the words directed at the wooden floor. One juicy big toe chased the line of the diagonal pine slat.
A thirty-second debate waged in his head as he stepped forward: try to get to home base, or be civilized and have dinner first.
He'd resigned himself to dinner when she said, “I'm not really hungry, though. I had a big lunch.”
The Coke bottle clunked around in the sink when he dropped it. Two strides, and he had her in his arms, his mouth on hers, open, thrusting into sweet heat. The merlot hit his kneecap when he inserted his thigh between her legs. The pain brought him back from the brink. He took the bottle from her hand and set it on the counter.
“Condom… Car… I'll be back.” He sat her on the granite kitchen counter, the image of his cock plundering her pussy his sole goal. “Stay.” Tongue thick and heavy in his mouth, Gray could barely manage speech at all. An image of her rising from the lake stained his pupils, and at the door he turned and pointed at her halter straps. “Untie.”
Mine.
Claiming Sorcha McFadden, scent-marking every inch of her delicious body, just the thought hazed his brain, and rational thought ceased.
Gray didn't remember the journey out or back, but when he skidded to a halt between her dangling legs, he saw she'd obeyed his last command and held the triangles of the halter in place only with her arms.
“Oh, honey. Thank you, thank you.” He buried his face between her breasts and shoved the jersey material to her waist. Drunk on her flesh, he sucked his way up one rounded mound, lapping and teasing the taut cherry blossom, slowing for the return journey, inhaling soap and a flowery scent. “Oh God, you smell good. You're so soft here.” He couldn't resist lingering on the underside when she whimpered a sweet little series of double moans.
A dog barked.
Barked again.
Let out a growl.
He heard, but the sounds didn't penetrate.
Loud, insistent barking continued.
Gray lifted his head.
“My dog.”
Cradling her face, he licked the seam of her lips. “Bedroom, and no dog.”
“Okay.” Her mouth curled into that smile, the one that made his prick weep, and he wanted to drown in her twinkling eyes.
Turning her head to the left, she addressed the black Labrador. “Down, boy. Stay.”
The dog obediently lay down and curled around himself, his tail flicking up and down.
Gray wrapped her legs around his waist.
“Arms around my neck,” he ordered.
She complied, kissing his throat as he raced to the bedroom, toed the door shut, and stumbled toward the bed. Fuck, she felt good, her mound all soft and wet, slicking up the crotch of his pants. They fell on the mattress, him on top. All he could think about was being inside her, that first entry, how tight and hot she'd be. He bounded off the bed and put three condoms on a handy bedside table.
Her eyes followed his movements.
“We'll get more when we go shopping,” he promised.
Spotting an alcove above the headboard, Gray removed his gun and holster and stashed them in the narrow space. Aware her blue eyes tracked his actions, he tried to get out whole sentences while stripping off his shirt, losing most of the buttons and not giving a crap.
“I'm on fire, honey. It's not going to be long the first time.” The blasted belt finally unbuckled. “Second one will be better. Third will be a nice, slow one.” Zipper down.
The bewildered look on her face made his stomach do a three-hundred-pound clench-and-jerk. “Sorcha, honey, listen to me—You're not a virgin, are you?”
Reddish brown eyebrows climbed to her hairline.
His khakis sunk to his knees. “Honey?”
She covered her face with her hands and mumbled, “No.”
“That's great.” He'd forgotten his boots. Crap. “It'll be okay. It'll work.” His cock knew enough to let his brain continue coaxing as he finished undressing. Snatching a condom packet, he ripped the plastic open with his teeth, then began to slide the rubber on over the crown.
“I'm on the Pill. You don't really need that.”
His mind shut down.
He could go bareback.
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