Page 48 of Wild Highway (Runaway 2)

A safe place. A forever place.

Maybe that place didn’t exist for women like me, so I stood on my toes, threw my free arm around his shoulders and brushed my lips against his before I gave him my second choice. “You.”

He didn’t hesitate. Easton crushed his lips to mine, letting my hand go so both arms could snake around me. The heat from his body spread like fire, racing through my body and stealing my breath.

I gasped as he lifted me off my toes and took one long stride into the cabin, kicking the door closed behind us with his boot.

His tongue swept inside my mouth, twisting and tangling with mine, as a rush of desire pooled in my core. The erection beneath his jeans dug into my hip and his hard length only increased the frenzy.

I was needy. Aching. Melting into his strong body. I latched on to his bottom lip, sucking it into my mouth as my arms clung to him.

“Stop.” He broke his mouth away, panting. “Are you sure?”

“If you walk out that door without fucking me, I’ll never speak to you again.”

The corner of his mouth turned up. “Promise?”

I laughed and leaned in to take his earlobe between my teeth. “Easton. Fuck me.”

“Whatever you say, darlin’.” His mouth latched on to the skin of my neck and he spun us toward the living room but stopped after two steps. “Wait. Damn it. I don’t have a condom.”

I pointed over his shoulder to the coat rack. “Purse.”

Easton spun us again, growling against my skin as he walked. His hands dropped to my ass, palming it with those large hands before setting me down so I could yank my purse off the hook and dig.

His chest hit my back and his lips found the sensitive spot beneath my ear. The caress of his breath

and the wet warmth of his tongue dizzied my brain and I swayed on my feet. His arms banded around me, and one hand cupped my breast as the other went for the button on my jeans.

“Hustle up,” he commanded.

I was struggling to keep a grip on my purse, let alone search through it in the hopes that I’d find the condom I carried for emergency purposes.

When I couldn’t feel it in the interior pocket, I started throwing things onto the floor. Lip glosses. Pens. A packet of gum. I ripped items out in a flurry, just wanting to find my goddamn wallet as Easton tortured me with his lips and hands.

My nipples were pebbled inside my bra and when he slipped a hand underneath my sweater, raking those calloused fingers up my ribs, I began to quiver.

“Gemma. Condom.”

I snapped back to reality, clinging to the last thread of my focus to search for my wallet. When I had it in my hand, I threw my twelve-thousand-dollar handbag on the floor and ripped open the flap of the matching wallet.

My finger hit the foil packet at the exact moment Easton’s slid into my panties and found my clit.

“Oh my God.” I sagged against him, letting him hold me up as my eyes fell closed. “East, I . . .” My ability to speak and form coherent sentences disappeared as he toyed with me, playing me with those expert fingers.

“Come.” His gravelly voice tickled my skin as two of his fingers slid inside. “Come on my fingers.”

I managed a nod before a surge of heat spread through my limbs. Ecstasy consumed every nerve ending until I bucked against his hand and detonated. My orgasm was hard and fast and so fucking satisfying. I was still riding the high when he slid both his hands free and spun me around, catching me before I could topple to the floor.

Easton shuffled me backward until my back hit the wall. He took my chin in a hand and tipped it up, holding me exactly where he wanted me as his mouth crashed onto mine.

My palm flattened against his zipper, rubbing his arousal through the denim. He groaned down my throat, pressing deeper into my touch. Then his hand released my jaw so he could use both hands to strip the jeans off my hips.

I kicked them off as he took a fistful of my lace panties and shredded them off my body.

“Open it.” He nodded to the condom I’d managed to keep in my fingers. Then the sound of metal scraping metal filled my ears as he flicked the clasp on his oval belt buckle. The sound of his zipper opening came next.

“Holy fuck.” My eyes bulged as his thick length bobbed free. He’d been wearing nothing under those jeans the entire time. No boxers or briefs. Just Easton Greer going commando as he’d sat at my small table eating spaghetti.