Page 64 of Talk Wicked to Me

She ended the call and went to answer the door. Ollie bounded out to greet Baz, who looked devastatingly sexy, with his helmet in one hand and loving up her dog with the other, those piercing blue eyes traveling down the length of her. Heat coiled low in her belly.

“Hey, darlin’.” Stepping into the house with Ollie, he put his helmet on the table and closed the door. He slid an arm around her waist, tugging her against him.

That had become her favorite place to be. He smelled like summer sun and rugged man.

“You get more beautiful every time I see you.” He lowered his lips to hers, kissing her slowly and sensually, igniting flames deep within her core. He threaded his fingers into her hair and held on tight, sending prickling heat down her spine. He flattened his other hand on her back, holding her against him. His arousal pressed into her, and he made a lustful sound, intensifying the kiss and leaving her dizzy with desire.

“How’s our boy?”

The endearment had her melting inside. Between that, the desire swamping her, and the need to talk to him, she was having trouble focusing. “He’s great. Sleeping.”

“I loved the pictures you sent me today. You should probably get ready.”

“I’m not sure I want to go to the meeting.”

“You’re going.” He palmed her ass, pulling her close again. “I know you’re nervous about leaving Brennan, and probably about meeting the other girls, but Madigan has your back. You’ll have fun.”

How could he possibly have known that was what she was nervous about? She opened her mouth to object, but he cut her off.

“I don’t want to hear it, Lockhart. You spent the entire day yesterday decorating cowboy-themed cookies. You’re going, and I promise Brennan will be safe and happy.”

She sighed. “Fine.”

“That’s my girl.” He kissed her again, soft and sweet. “What smells so good besides you?”

“Your aunt Reba came over with your mom again this afternoon to see Brennan. I just finished making cookies for her and Preacher and doggy biscuits for their pups.”

“You spoil everyone. Why don’t you go get ready, and when you get home, I’ll spoil you.” He gave her another quick kiss and swatted her ass as she walked away.

She was still grinning over that playful swat as she pinned her hair up and stepped into the shower to rinse off. She poured body wash into her hands, thinking about Baz. Her hands slid over her breasts and down her belly. She tipped her face up to the warm spray and closed her eyes. Baz’s face instantly appeared, eyes smoldering. Her body flooded with arousal as if he were right there. She could still feel his hardness against her, still taste his mouth devouring hers. Her body pulsed with need as she slid her fingers between her legs, imagining they were Baz’s thick fingers working her so perfectly, her legs trembled. She used her other hand on her breast, teasing her nipple, recalling the gruff, gratified noises he made when they were kissing. Needy moans sailed from her lips as she took herself higher, worked her clit faster. His eyes implored her, his voice—Come on, darlin’. That’s my girl—sending her over the edge. His name flew from her lungs like a prayer, chased by moans as she rode the waves of her climax.

She leaned back against the cold, wet tile to catch her breath, her body shuddering with aftershocks. She was getting way too good at that. She’d never felt the visceral need to touch herself before Baz came into her life. Sure, she’d done it, but she’d never needed to come like she did when she thought of him.

She finished showering and then fixed her hair and put on makeup, taking a little extra time to give herself smoky eyes. She dressed in a scoop-neck, empire-style white minidress with tiny red, green, and yellow flowers on it. She’d bought it with Gwen the summer before she’d moved away, and it showed a little too much of her dimpled thighs, but it was going to be dark soon, and it was super comfortable. She put on socks and slid her feet into the red cowgirl boots she’d bought to go with it that same summer because they were too cute to pass up. The book club meeting was at a secluded cove, and Madigan had said it wouldn’t be as windy as it was by the ocean, but she grabbed a denim shirt in case it got chilly and headed out of the bedroom.

Baz was sitting on the sofa giving Brennan a bottle, with Ollie lying on the couch beside him. There was nothing she wanted more than to kick off her boots and snuggle with them. She couldn’t believe how deeply that glorious man had already tunneled into her heart, and she knew that even if it took a month before they did more than kiss, he was worth the wait.

But oh, how she hoped it wouldn’t take that long.

“All se—” He looked up, his expression a mix of fascination and desire. “Holy shit, darlin’. You always look beautiful, but damn. It’s a good thing there are only girls at this meeting, or I’d have to go with you to keep the guys away.”

Her heart skipped. “I’m glad you like my outfit.”

As she kissed Brennan’s forehead, Baz said, “It’s not the dress, Lockhart. It’s the woman wearing it.” He leaned forward and kissed her. Ollie’s head popped up. “Looks like someone’s jealous.”

“He’s got nothing to be jealous of. The little biscuit hoarder.” She scratched behind Ollie’s ears and kissed his snout. “He’s had enough biscuits for today, so don’t let him beg his way into getting more.”

“Don’t worry. I’m wise to the wily ways of your mischievous pooch.”

Ollie cocked his head.

“Have fun tonight, and stay as long as you want. We’ll be fine.”

“I know you will. Thanks again for staying with Brennan.”

“I’ll take all the time I can get with him.” He’d looked at Brennan with so much affection, she could practically see it wrapping around him.

SHE WAS STILL thinking about that look when she climbed out of her car at the cove where she was meeting the girls. The scent of the sea hung in the air, bringing happy memories, new and old. After her parents were killed, and before moving there, she’d been so focused on getting through her days, she hadn’t made many new memories. Now that she had Brennan—and Baz—time was marked by memories. Brennan’s birth, his first cry, the first time she’d held him, the first time she nursed him, the first time he slept for more than a two-hour stretch, his first bottle, which Baz had given him, his first stroller ride, and first walk on the beach in the baby carrier. Baz had been there for most of those milestones. Those new memories were intertwining with the ones of her and her parents at the beach when she was little, skiing as a teenager, walking through various small towns at different ages holding the hand of one of her parents.