“That’s a lot of eyeballs.”
He rolled his eyes and laughed down at her. “And a lot of mascara I’d have to wait for you to put on before we go out to dinner. But not my point. Do you hear me? I. Love. You. Now say it back so we can break out the condoms and the lube and get this party started.”
Letting her head fall back on her shoulders, she laughed, forgetting she was almost naked, forgetting everything but the idea of seeing Nash just as naked.
Rising up on tiptoe, she cupped his hard jaw, her fingertips smoothing over the stubble. “First, we don’t really need birth control. I’ll explain the mating cycle of a werewolf later. But bring on the birth control and KY anyway—because who says no to lube? Oh, and I love you, too, Nash Ryder.”
And that was all either of them needed to say. She pulled him to her then, lifting the edges of his T-shirt and driving it up over his head. Her heart crashed in her breast at the sight of his bare chest—smooth with only a sprinkle of dark hair between his pecs.
He was strong from long days working the ranch, his abs so defined, they almost didn’t look real. Her fingers went to the smooth expanse of skin stretched tight over rippled planes, reveling in the heat under her palms when she skimmed them over his dusky nipples.
Nash groaned his pleasure when her hands surfed down his abdomen to the wide buckle of his belt and tugged it open. Her mouth watered when she popped the button and unzipped the zipper, dragging both his pants and his boxer-briefs over his hips.
Nash kicked off his boots, leaving him with nothing but his black socks. Calla’s breath hitched in her throat when she looked down. His thighs—heavily muscled—flexed and bulged; his cock stood rigid and thick, pushing upward.
The air in the room grew still despite the warm breeze he’d created. She’d never seen a man as beautiful as Nash Ryder. Every inch of him, from his gruff, chiseled face to the lean cut of his hipbones, was bronzed, lickable.
He wiggled a finger between them at her lace panties. “Ahem. Those have to go. Take them off before I tear them off, and that would be a shame because they’re pretty dang hot.”
His approving eyes on her, intense and amused at the same time, left her feeling alive, sexy, so she shimmied the pink-lace scrap down over her hips and to her feet in a flirtatious manner.
“So the rumor about Miss Dottie’s is true,” he said, his voice tight and thick, the muscles of his neck working.
Calla smiled, planting her hands on her hips. “I guess it is,” she responded teasingly, her heart crashing against her ribs, heat pooling between her thighs.
Nash wiggled his finger at the spot on the floor directly in front of him, his grin rakish. “Here. Now.”
Calla closed the space between them until they were but an inch apart and then Nash hauled her into his arms, molding her to him, their flesh meeting for the first time, making them both groan into each other’s mouths.
She saw stars when his tongue dipped between her lips, stroking hers as his hands roamed over her back and down along the cheeks of her ass. Strong, callused, skilled, his fingers teased her, avoiding the space between her legs until she wanted to beg him to touch her.
Nash walked her backward toward the bed until the mattress hit the backs of her knees and she was sitting on the cool comforter. Placing himself between her thighs, he knelt before her and slid her bottom to the edge of the bed.
Her hands instantly wove through his thick hair, loving the feel of the silky strands threading through her fingers.
Nuzzling her chin, Nash moved along her jaw to her earlobe and whispered, “I can’t believe how beautiful you are,” before he wrapped his hand around the length of her hair and tilted her head back until her neck and spine arched in unison.
“Spread your legs, Calla,” he ordered husky and low as his tongue wisped over the length of her neck and over her collarbone.
She was vulnerable in this position, her soul as naked as her body. Yet, there was no hesitation—no fear.
He nipped at her skin, setting it on fire with each rasp of his tongue. Nearing her breast, Nash leaned into her, letting his head rest against her chest.
Her unconscious impulse was to pull him away when she stiffened, but Nash kept a firm grip on her hair. “Don’t. Don’t ever hide from me, Calla.”
Her shoulders sagged and as he let her hair go, and her head lifted, she glanced down at him, his face nestled at her chest. The stark contrast of pale skin and his dark hair made her stomach clench, her heart twist and shudder.
Then he took his first swipe of her tight nipple, making her forget everything but the heat of his tongue, the white-hot need settling between her legs.