Easy Nights (Boudreaux #6)

“No, smart ass, because I’ve dreamed about this for years, and because I want to make sure that you feel safe.”


“I’ve never felt safer in my life than I do when I’m with you, Ben.” I take his hand and place it over my heart. “I love you. I trust you implicitly, and I want you.”

His eyes close as if in relief for a millisecond, and the next thing I know, he’s lifted me and is carrying me toward the bedroom.

“No pool table sex?”

He stops cold and stares at me in surprise. “Do you want to have pool table sex?”

“Well, it sounds like it could be fun.”

He laughs and carries me the rest of the way to his bedroom.

“Then pool table sex we shall have, beautiful lady. But not this time. This time, I want you in my bed. I want your scent on my sheets. I want to see the moonlight on your gorgeous skin as we lie here and worship each other.”

“Wow. I had no idea you were a poet.” I smile sweetly, but then he shocks the hell out of me and whips his shirt right over his head. “God, Ben, you’re just ridiculous.”

His lips twitch. “Now it’s your turn.” He grabs the hem of my shirt and lifts it slowly. I raise my arms over my head and when it’s off, he lets it fall to the floor. His eyes are still pinned to mine, and then they very deliberately travel down my neck, to my chest and my stomach. “Beautiful.”

You haven’t seen the stomach pooch yet.

But I don’t say it out loud because no man wants his girl to start talking shit about herself when they’re about to make love. It’s not sexy at all.

I reach out to unfasten his jeans. He watches me patiently, his hands hanging at his sides, as I pull them down his hips and legs. I crouch next to him, helping him step out of them. Before I stand back up, I take my time kissing his strong thighs. He has a light dusting of hair that feels good against my lips.

He’s just in his tight boxer briefs now. They’re black, and they cling in the most delicious way. He’s clearly aroused, so I lean in and press a kiss over the cotton of his shorts.

“Oh no,” he says, guiding me back to my feet. “You have to catch up.”

“You catch me up,” I reply, making him smile. His fingers make quick work of my jeans, and he copies my move of squatting before me, tugging them down my legs. I brace myself on his shoulder as I step out of them.

And then, praise the Lord above, he presses a kiss to my thigh, mirroring my movements.

Holy shit, he’s going to kiss me there.

And he does. His lips are firm as he kisses me over my pink cotton panties, and then he stands again, gazing happily down at me.

We’re standing here, in our underwear, just staring at each other. It might be the most intimate moment of my life.

“You’re perfect,” he whispers. He reaches out to trace my bra strap down to the top of the cup. “Every part of me wants to take you fast and hard, but I must admit, this is amazing.”

I nod and step closer to him, pressing my belly against his hard on.

“You didn’t get your tattoo,” he says.

“Not yet. You got sick, so I postponed.”

He kisses my forehead.

“I need to tell you,” he says, as his hands travel over my skin, sending zings of electricity all over me. It’s hard to keep my eyes open. I feel drunk.

And he’s just getting started.

Dear, sweet Jesus, I might not survive this.

“What do you need to tell me?” I whisper.

“You’re amazing, Savannah.” He presses his lips ever so gently to the soft skin below my ear. “You’re the most fantastic person I’ve ever known in my life, and I love you so much my body aches with it.”

“Ben,” I whisper, completely mesmerized by him.

His hands glide up my arms, over my shoulders, and to my back where he unfastens my bra and I let it fall down my arms and to the floor.

My nipples are already hard pebbles. I have goose bumps all over my skin. His breath, his eyes, his fingers are seducing me faster than anything else ever has.

I’m already addicted to him, and we’ve hardly touched each other.

“Beautiful,” he says again and presses a kiss on my chest, right between my breasts.

“You’re not naked yet,” I say. I’m tracing the very top of his boxer briefs, where the elastic meets his skin.

“Neither are you,” he replies and I smile up at him.

“You first.”

He cocks his head to the side and holds his arms out. “Help yourself.”

He’s making sure I know that I’m in control, and it’s just as touching as him declaring his love for me.

I slip my finger under the elastic, never looking away from his face. I can feel his smooth skin, pulled tight over his erection. The ridge of the head leads me to the very tip, and…metal?

“Um, Ben?”

“Yes, Angel.”

“Are you pierced?”

His lips tip up into a smile. “I am.”

I’m fascinated.

“I have to see this.” I pull his shorts down, freeing his cock, and stare in wonder not only at the metal ring he’s sporting in the tip, but the sheer size of him.

“That will not fit inside me.”

He chuckles. “I promise, it will.”

“I’m going to have so many questions for you later.”

“I hope so,” he says as I push the shorts down around his ankles. He steps free of them, and here he is, in all of his glory.

And let me just say, he’s mother fucking glorious.

“Can you please turn around?” I ask and bite my lip. He doesn’t ask why, or argue at all. He simply turns his back to me.

I knew I loved his tattoos. His sleeves are impressive. The others on his torso are beautiful.

But I had no idea that I could be this turned on by someone’s back.

The muscles are defined, rippled under inked skin. He doesn’t have his whole back covered, just up between his shoulder blades.

“What does the symbol on your back mean?”

“It’s the Krav Maga symbol,” he replies. He’s being so patient with me, letting me take my time to look him over.

His ass is firm, and he has those two dimples right above it.

I reach out and trace one, then the other.

“You can turn back around,” I say and smile at him when he complies. “I don’t want you to get a big head or anything, but you are physically ridiculous.”

“Thank you,” he says. “Now, it’s my turn.”

I hold my arms out at my side and smirk, mirroring his response from a minute ago. He steps to me and brushes his finger over the elastic, where it meets the skin along my waist.

I’m so damn wet right now, the panties will be soaked when he finally gets them off of me.

“I’m going to take these off,” he whispers.

“Great.” He hooks his thumbs in the waistband at my hips and slowly drags them down my legs, kissing my exposed skin and sending more goosebumps over my body. When they’re pooled at my feet, he stands and steps back so he can take a good, long look. I don’t even care that he’s looking at my belly, given the pure lust in his eyes. “Please turn around.”

I comply and hear him suck in a breath. I know I have a couple of scars on my back. They’re not as bad as they could be, and I don’t have to see them, so I forget they’re there.

Well, most of the time.

“Lift your hair off your neck, please.”