Page 111 of Buckin' Around

I wriggle into the bed further, tightening the sheet around me.

“Riles . . .”

“Don’t wake her, Spence. From Northern Ireland, as you so elegantly pointed out earlier tonight, remember?”

He chuckles, laying down. His arms brushes against my back. Oh god, he is so fecking warm.

Without a thought, I loosen the sheet and lift it over him before grabbing his arm and dragging around my body and over my chest.

With a grunt, he shifts, rolling onto his left side as his right arm tugs me backward into his body.

I tamp back the moan elicited by his body heat covering me. Sliding my arm over his, I snuggle in closer.

Moments pass as he serves as my meat blanket. My goosebumps dissipate, and my body relaxes against his.

I shift a little, and his hard length presses against the small of my back. I’m swathed in Spencer, warm and content, but now the heat is rising too fast. The hand wrapped over mine flexes, his fingertips brushing over my collarbone.

When I remain unmoving, his face dips into my hair. “Let me in, Riles.”

God above, I want to.

My panties are slick with need being cocooned with Spence. His scent shrouds me. His touch warms my body, sending sparks flying through my veins simultaneously.

Spencer infiltrates my every sense.

I’ve never ached for anyone like this before.

Like it is very possible I could combust if he doesn’t meet the need he has drawn out in me.

Let me in.

I could do that . . . so easily.

I could simply turn over.

Let Spencer’s hands roam my body.

Let him take whatever he wants.

Take what I desperately want.

What I have pushed down, denied and chastised myself for, for weeks.

Air snaps in and out of my lungs in short spurts. And it’s only when I move his arm lower so it rests over my belly that I realize he’s tracking kisses down my neck.

I can’t do this any more. This pretending he leaves me unaffected. Pretending I don’t want this as much as he does.

“Feck it,” I mutter, rolling back.

Spence lifts his head as I settle on my back before his mouth crashes down to mine.

Nipping, coaxing my mouth wider, he devours me.

My hands crawl into his hair and he groans.

The last time we were this close, he was obsessed with tasting me, and now all I can think of is him in my mouth. Straddling his lap, impaled on him, as he plucks my nipples with his teeth.

The cold long forgotten, I lose a hand from his hair and tug at the waistband of his boxers.