Read Online All I Need (Hearts of the South) by Linda Winfree - Free Book Online

could be sexy. She touched him often as they prepared and tested a quick sauce while the pasta boiled—leaning into his arm to guide his hand, passing her palm over his hip, swiping a hint of sauce from the corner of his lip after they tasted from the same spoon. By the time the pasta was done, he was on high alert and buzzing, as heated as the steam rising from the finished meal.
    They carried bowls and beverages through to the living room. A light touch on his wrist forestalled him when he reached for the remote. She tucked one foot under her and smiled, her knee brushing his thigh. “The music’s good.”
    They chatted while they ate, a recap of their day. The food was excellent, but he found one appetite supplanted by another, his attention diverted to the sensation of having her near him. Afterward, she insisted on washing up. “It’s quicker than putting them in the dishwasher and there’s not that much.”
    She washed and rinsed while he dried. Turning the saucepan under the stream resulted in water dampening the front of her dress. She laughed, that husky sultry sound that went straight to his dick. “Ah, damn it, I’m wet.”
    His temperature went through the roof, shooting even higher as he took in the thin fabric clinging to her breasts, outlining hard nipples. He lifted his gaze to find her eyes on him, and with one step forward, he kissed her, hard, all the drawn-out teasing poured into one devouring meshing of lips. She met him kiss for kiss and trailed a hand down to cup him through smooth cotton.
    He groaned and rubbed into her palm. “Fuck, Savannah.”
    She giggled against his mouth. “Couch.”
    Somehow they made it there, and still kissing him, she unfastened his shorts. With her tongue teasing his, he couldn’t focus enough to wonder where the condom she produced came from, and he didn’t really care. He ran his hands up her outer thighs, smooth material shifting over his hands, even softer skin under his palms.
    One small cognizant section of his brain protested, wanting to linger over caressing her, to discover all the secrets of her body, but she was sucking on his tongue, an approximation of something else that same section of his mind wanted to explore. And with an eager woman in his arms, straddling his thighs and sinking down over him, the tightness like a punch to the chest, taking his breath, he wasn’t going to argue. It had been a long time, so he was as impatient as she was.
    He could do eager and hard and fast. Slow discovery could come later.
    His lashes fell under an onslaught of sensation—her scent, her skin under his hands, the feel of her around him as she posted on him. He thrust up, letting the good leg compensate for the injured one. Please, no cramps right now, because he wanted to make this so good for her, to make it last as long as he could, even as fast as it had barreled over them.
    The uneasiness and discomfort took a minute to sink in.
    Her fingernails digging into his shoulders bordered on painful. She was tight—too tight around him, the latex abrading.
    He opened his eyes. This should be hot—easy-access clothing, the two of them too intent on each other to even remove them, and suddenly the interlude was anything but. Eyes closed, her face expressionless, she rode him with a single-minded intent. The blank slate of her face jarred him, and his hands fell from her body. No connection, no enjoyment, no desire for him. Sex with friendship was one thing. This was something else.
    He didn’t like being fucked just for fucking’s sake.
    “Stop.” The rough word hurt his throat. He caught her hips.
    She did, instantly. Her lashes flew up, concern the only emotion in her dark eyes. No passion, no desire. It chilled him. “What’s wrong? Your leg?”
    “No.” As gently as possible, trying not to recoil, he tipped her off his lap and adjusted his clothes, covering himself. Condom be damned. He’d get it later. “This isn’t working.”
    Her face closed