Page 8 of Cash’s Trouble

His mouth curves against mine. “Liar.”

He kisses me again while opening my jeans, then slides one hand beneath the denim and lace. The first drag of his fingers through my wetness pulls a broken breath from me.

Cash lifts his head. “This from arguing with me?”

“You wish.”

“I know.” His thumb finds my clit, circling slowly while two fingers press inside me. “You were wet before you walked into the room.”

My hips tilt toward his hand. “You really do enjoy hearing yourself talk.”

“I enjoy watching your body prove me right.”

He curls his fingers, and the answer dies in my throat. Cash watches my face with a focus that feels more intimate than the hand between my thighs. He learns quickly, repeating the angle that makes my legs weaken and increasing the pressure whenever I move against him.

“Cash.”

“That’s it.” His mouth moves down my throat. “Let me hear what the sheriff’s good girl sounds like when she stops following the rules.”

The forbidden truth tightens everything low in my stomach. My father is hunting a corrupt deputy while I’m in an outlaw’s room with his fingers inside me.

I drag Cash’s mouth back to mine. “She sounds impatient.”

His thumb moves faster. “Then come for me.”

The orgasm hits hard enough to make my knees give. Cash holds me against the door, his arm firm around my waist while his fingers work me through every pulse. When the pleasure becomes too sharp, he slows and withdraws his hand. Still breathless, I watch him taste his fingers, and my body clenches again.

“You look pleased with yourself.”

“I’ve wanted to do that for months.” He turns me toward the bed. “Take off your clothes.”

The command is quiet and confident enough that I obey before deciding whether I should tease him for it. I push my jeans and underwear down, then pull my top over my head. When I reach behind me to release my bra, Cash catches my hand.

“Leave it.”

“Why?”

“Because I’ve imagined you wearing something exactly like that while I fucked you.”

The directness makes my skin burn. He unfastens his belt, watching me as he lowers his jeans and underwear.

The words land somewhere deeper than I’m prepared to examine, especially when his cock springs free, thick, hard and already glistening at the tip.

He cups my jaw gently. “Say what you came in here for.”

I wrap my fingers around his wrist. “I want you.”

“That isn’t all of it.”

I know what he wants me to own. Every private thought I had behind those bank windows.

“I want the biker my father warned me about to stop holding back.”

Cash’s expression changes, hunger cutting through the last of his control. “Now you’ve got him.”

He lowers me onto the mattress and releases my bra, pushing the cups aside before closing his mouth over one nipple. He sucks deeply, his tongue circling the tight peak before his teeth scrape it. I arch beneath him and grip his shoulders, but Cash only moves to the other breast, taking his time until I’m wet and aching again.

“Cash, please.”