Not mine, but a girl can dream.
Warning: language and sexual innuendo
From Lean Mean 13 p 52-53 (paperback)
I took one step back and one step to the side to let Smullen get past me, and he inched his way toward the door and disappeared.
I felt someone lean into me from behind, and a coffee was placed in my hand.
"Nice," Ranger said, guiding me out to the sidewalk. "I couldn't have gotten that close. And he wouldn't have been distracted by my chest."
"I don't think he even noticed."
"A man would have to be dead not to notice," Ranger said.
"Morelli's worried I'll be involved in Dickie's disappearance. He said I should ask you for help."
"He's a good man," Ranger said.
Oh boy! Like I needed the reminder, better hands, better tongue, better ass, better …uummm. Now was not the time to think about this Good Stephanie said! It isn't polite to compare. But Bad Stephanie was too far gone, eyes glazed over, tongue hanging out while memories of a very naked and sweaty Ranger filled my brain.
I shook my head and realized I was staring at his crotch and slowly drug my eyes up to meet his. They were almost black and twinkled while a satisfied smirk graced his lips – better lips than Morelli too – Bad Stephanie added. Unable to handle the heat in his gaze, I blushed and turned towards my car.
I mean it wasn't my fault, really. You try having two of the hottest men in Trenton in your bed and see if you don't start subconsciously start comparing the two. I mean Morelli was great. He was warm and comfortable and satisfying like a peanut butter and olive sandwich with a Butterscotch Krimpet for dessert. It was my favorite lunch as a child and I never really outgrew it. Then there was Ranger. Sex with Ranger was HOT, a blazing inferno of passion and pleasure. Sex with Ranger was definitely not comfortable. The intensity was almost scary. I am not sure what I was more scared of, how a Ranger induced orgasm made me feel or that I might not have one again. Sex with Ranger was better than birthday cake for dinner, with sprinkles, topped with Boston Crème donuts and chocolate bars with a side of pineapple upside-down cake. And just like cake for dinner our night together was painfully sweet and made me feel ill the next morning as he left. Sex with Ranger was so good it was scary. And bad for me, just like cake for dinner. Goddamit , why did I like cake so much?
"Something burning Babe? I smell fire. Should I have made yours an iced coffee? I can see if they have some ice cubes to cool you off." He grinned at me as he brushed a wayward curl behind my ear.
"No, I'm good," I told him as I tamped down my Hungarian hormones.
Ranger opened my car door as he leaned down and brushed his lips across mine, once twice, three times before he whispered against them, "Birthday cake Babe? I'm flattered. But I still prefer pie. Plum is my favorite." He kissed me again with lots of tongue and lots of promise. And then he was gone.
Oh boy and oh fuck! I wonder how much of that I said out loud? I fanned myself while I tried again to cool my hormones. I tried to remind myself why sex with Ranger was a bad idea. Why did I find it so scary? Was it the fear of getting my heart crushed again in the morning? Or was it the sweetness that I knew was there that made me ill, scared of what it could mean?
And why did he have to mention pie, like I could forget? The gusto with which I eat cake, Ranger lavishes on pie. The things the man could do with his tongue – he liked to kiss A LOT and in lots of places. The pleasure he brought bordered on painful, I thought he may swallow me whole. Ranger may be the biggest badass bounty hunter out there with skills learned from the Armed Forces. To see him in action was a thing of pure beauty. But his combat skills don't come close to his skills in the bedroom. But what I worried about was not his technique, but the passion in which they were performed. Our night together he worshiped my body in a way Morelli never did. I'm not sure he could.
Now officially overheated, I buckled myself in my pos car and swore under my breath that I had no air conditioner. It was only February and summer was along way off but I was exhausted from my mental aerobics and was ready to head home and shower debating whether it should be a cold one or if I should break in my new shower massager.
703 words not including title and book excerpt
Babesquad June Challenge
Sweaty, heat, blazing, ice cubes , air conditioner, summer, exhausted