Dirty Mind (Nashville Outlaws #2)

by Cheryl Douglas

  I opened my eyes, shocked to hear my thoughts fall from her lips. This connection was getting stranger by the minute. It was like we were in sync at some intuitive level that defied logic.

  Keeping my eyes locked on hers, I picked up the pace, letting her bring me close to claim another kiss. It was like she couldn’t get enough of kissing me and I sure as hell wasn’t complaining. I could kiss this woman and day and night.

  “Oh god,” she whispered, tearing her lips from mine. “Right there. Yes…”

  I inched back, slowing down to watch her fall apart. I was mesmerized. I’d brought dozens of women to completion before, but none had rocked me like this. She pulsated and clenched, her mouth open on a silent scream as she gripped my biceps, digging her nails into the tats snaking up my arm. Her body trembled gently and her heart was racing when I brought her close and held her. Couldn’t remember the last time I’d had the desire to hold a woman like this during sex. Maybe never.

  I brushed my lips across her temple, whispering, “You good, beautiful?”

  Her chuckle was broken as she nodded. “So, so good.” Her cheeks were flushed when her eyes finally met mine. “Would you think I’d been missing out if I told you that had never happened for me before… you know, during.”

  My eyes narrowed, trying to read her, but there was no doubt she was telling the truth. “Baby, you’ve been fucking the wrong guys then.” I was outraged on her behalf. Selfish bastards who cared more about getting off than making sure she was taken care of didn’t deserve her.

  “I think I have.” She drew me closer again, her tongue tangling with mine before she finally pushed me away with a huff. “I’m so screwed. I think I’m obsessed with your lips. I can’t get enough.”

  I laughed, thinking how sexy she was when she was flustered. I couldn’t believe we were talking and laughing during sex. That was another first for me.

  “Let’s see,” she said, her eyes darkening with challenge. “If that was just luck or you can set me off like that again.”

  “Again,” I whispered, punctuating it with a kiss. “And again.” Another kiss. “And again.”

  I didn’t know how, but I already had the map to Sky’s body. I knew where to touch her to make her moan. How to kiss her to make her crazy. How fast or slow she needed it, how much pressure to apply when I tweaked her nipples. I knew it all. And I used that knowledge to slowly drive her out of her mind.

  Synchronicity would be one way to describe the way our bodies moved together. It was a sensual rhythm of rocking and rolling, thrusting and retreating, that made her eyes roll back, her breath hitch, as she lost it over and over again.

  It continued like that all through the night, with brief breaks to eat catch a few winks. I’d implied no overnight dates, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t gutted when I woke up to find an indent in the bed where my fantasy girl should have been.

  She’d given me one night, just like she promised. Only instead of burning myself into her memory, she’d turned the tables and found a place in mine.

  Damn her.

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  Other Books by Cheryl Douglas

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  Game On

  Burn Out

  Fast Track

  Time Out

  Face Value

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