Law sat in his truck before Jori’s apartment, thinking. He’d just learned that the woman he was about to screw was a convicted felon. He didn’t know what she’d done, or why. And guess what? He didn’t give a damn.
His interest in her had nothing to do with who she was, or what she’d done, or even whether or not she might be good in the sack, though preliminaries said she’d be great. He could have had sex every day of the week but had lost interest in recent months. Yet something about Jori brought every hair on his body to attention. He wanted her so bad his zipper had been making teeth marks in his rigid dick for three days straight. Jerking off in the shower didn’t begin to satisfy his itch.
And here she was, sitting and waiting for him to make the first move.
So why had his conscience suddenly jumped up to bite him in the ass? Because every thought in his head so far was about himself. Jori was the goal, the objective, nothing more. And unaccountably, he felt bad about that.
He glanced over at her. She sat staring out the windshield, chewing a corner of her lower lip as she fiddled with the end of her braid. He could tell she was having a conversation in her head, too. And it probably wasn’t as lust-driven as his was.
“This doesn’t work if you think about it.”
Jori nodded, not looking at the man whose bones she wanted to jump right here in his truck. But if she kept thinking, she might just talk herself out of satisfying the hunger for him simmering beneath her full-body flush.
“Look at me.” He waited until her gaze shifted to him. “I don’t do relationships.”
Jori watched him, drinking in the implication of his words. Hard to handle. Impossible to hold on to. That might just be the good news. She could barely keep up with herself. She didn’t need strings or commitment, or even checking up on.
Sex, then gone. That she could handle.
She gave a little nod.
A smile jerked one corner of his mouth as he reached past Sam to wrap a fist around the thick shiny braid flipped across her shoulder. “Let me put this another way. I don’t want a girlfriend. But I do, very badly, want to fuck you.”
Law watched her complexion catch fire, but she didn’t look away. When his gaze lowered to her breasts, her nipples pebbled as if he had actually touched them. He suspected if he reached into her pants he’d find her wet and warm with anticipation. But lust wasn’t the same thing as accepting what he had said.
“Tell me this is what you want.”
Jori frowned at him. Why was he giving her warnings? Couldn’t he tell she was so ready for him she was about to burst into flames? Maybe not.
She reached across the space between them, tangled her fingers in his beard, and tugged. “You promised me sex. So shut up and put out.”
His laughter startled her. At most she would have expected something dry and mirthless from him, as if dust had collected on his humor. But this was a belly laugh, full and rich, and sexy as hell.
Law reached for her hand to guide it down to a hands-on demonstration of his interest. But Sam suddenly sat up and shoved her curly head into his face, blocking the move.
Pushing the pooch’s head aside, he gave Jori a glance that made her thighs clench together. “Let’s do this.”
Once inside her door, he didn’t give her a chance to even turn on a light. He took her by the shoulders, spun her around so she faced him, then back-walked her up against the nearest wall and kissed her.
Law had never been much for kissing. It was just the opening move for sex. But kissing Jori was different. Like potato chips, one of her kisses was not enough.
Heat slid through Jori as his hand slid up and grasped the braid at her nape to hold her still under the assault of his mouth. He kissed the way he did everything else, full-on, hard-charging. With no possibility of retreat. More than that, he kissed like a man with a hunger he couldn’t quite control. A little rough and eager.
That was okay. She had an appetite of her own to satisfy. She reached up and fisted the thick hair at the back of his head with both hands to pull him closer.
She’d never kissed a man with a beard. It was a warm soft surprise that contradicted his hard-ass outside. He tasted clean and sexy and male.
She wanted to kiss him until she was saturated with his taste and smell and feel. Yet the world was spinning too fast for her to stay balanced. Her knees began to shake, her thighs loosening with anticipation.
Law was not about to move even an inch away. He wanted her to be much much closer. He moved a hand from her waist down her back. His hand traveled over the fabric that covered her hips until he cupped it under her butt. Then he pressed her hard against his throbbing groin, dry-humping her like a teenager for the sheer pleasure of it.