Somewhere (Sawtooth Mountains Stories Book 1) by Susan Fanetti

Author:Susan Fanetti [Fanetti, Susan]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Published: 2017-10-04T23:00:00+00:00

*****

Gabe breathed a sultry chuckle against his cheek and tipped her head, taking her lips from his. “If I’m ever going to learn this game, I think somebody else is going to have to teach me.”

With his hands grasping her hips, Heath rocked against her, letting her feel his need. She moaned, and the sound pulled its husky echo from his chest. “Anybody even offers, I’ll break their hands.”

“Tsk, tsk. So violent.” She smiled and brushed a finger over his bottom lip. He sucked it into his mouth and watched as her tongue peeked out in response and wet her lips.

After that one glass of water, Gabe had reverted to beer, and as she’d eased and found some enjoyment in the day, Heath was glad to keep them coming. Her eyes were heavy-lidded with drink and arousal. She was relaxed and happy. His cock strained against his jeans. He was just about beyond caring that they were in public. Technically, at least.

In the hour or so since they’d come into the shelter of the Jack, they’d had the place almost entirely to themselves, with the exceptions of a couple of tables across the room and the random stumbler-in seeking the restroom.

Denny Whitt sat alone at one of those tables, and had been since they’d come in, but Heath had decided to put anything but Gabe and his family out of his head for the rest of the day, so he tried hard to ignore him. After a couple more glasses of bourbon and his share of their pitcher of beer, he’d finally arrived at a place of not giving a weak fuck about Denham Whitt or any other rattlesnake in town.

Especially not with Gabe sitting on the side of the pool table, her legs around his hips.

“Damn, I want you so bad,” he murmured and bent down to kiss the spot just under her ear, the place where his lips never failed to make her pulse quicken, right where he could feel it happen. A faint scar crossed her throat, starting there and traveling almost to the front. She no longer covered it with the black leather choker; the only necklace she ever wore now was her mother’s crucifix.

Her arms twisted around his head and held him in place, and she leaned back until her shoulders touched the table, bringing him down with her.

His erection was pressed so hard against her pubic bone that he thought he might end up bruised, and he could tell—by the way her chest heaved into his with every inhale, the way each exhale left on a whimper, the way her legs were locked around him—that she would let him do whatever he wanted. Whether she’d forgotten where they were or just didn’t care, she was wholeheartedly open to him. She was naturally private and reserved, so Heath knew it was the alcohol at work.

He’d wanted her to relax, and she finally had. Too much.

He knew he was drunk, too, when he realized how close he was to taking advantage of that fact.

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