Page 122 of Property of Whiskey

Bare from the waist up, blonde hair loose around her shoulders, amusement fading as her breathing gets faster beneath my stare.

My mouth goes dry.

“Well?” she asks.

“Trying to remember English.”

“Thought bikers only knew four-letter words.”

“Got one in mind.”

She rolls her eyes.

I put my mouth on her breast.

The smartass comment disappears.

Twila gasps, fingers tightening in my hair.

“Fuck.”

“That’s the one.”

“Don’t stop.”

I don’t.

My other hand cups her while my thumb moves over her nipple, and her hips push into mine hard enough that she feels exactly how much I want her.

She grinds once. Slow.

“Deputy.”

“What?”

“You’re playing dangerous.”

“Thought we established I like dangerous.”

“Yeah.”

I lift her.

Twila’s legs wrap around my waist, and I carry her down the hall.

“Where are we going?”

“Bedroom.”

“Good.”

I nearly trip over my own boot.

“Christ, woman.”

“What?”

“You keep saying shit like that and I’m gonna hurt myself.”