How about a red hot sunday snog between a billionaire and a wild man today?
Carrie is recouperating in the countryside with her mother and hating every minute of it until she bumps into the wild, mad-haired Flynn. She befriends him but their innate sexual attraction keeps complicating their friendship!
Flynn wraps his other arm around my waist, and I’m enveloped in him. He smells of the outdoors, cut with a hint of citrus and spice from his wash and shave last night. Already there’s the slight sting of stubble against my cheek and chin as we kiss, his beard working to reassert itself, the pull of his hormones unstoppable by steel.
I don’t think I’ve breathed for hours, I’m just drinking him in. My grip on his arm slackens and slips down to his sides like silk sheets against skin. I clutch at him then sneak my hands up inside the confines of his t-shirt as his tongue presses urgently between my lips.
His skin is hot and taut, his stomach flat, his abs hard and unyielding. He flinches as I skim my hand over his hip and encounter a rough, raised line of a scar. I move over it quickly, unwilling to cause him pain or upset. I don’t know much about his life as a soldier, but I suppose the mark is something he picked up back then. He doesn’t want to think about his past, and I don’t want to push him, even though it’s obvious, even to me, that he’s running away from something. Something painful, no doubt, that he really needs to get to grips with to move on with his life. Fuck, I’m starting to sound like damn Dr. Sherrington.
I’m distracted from my inner ruminations by him stroking my side. He climbs higher, his thumb brushing over the bottom curve of my breast, and my nipple tightens almost painfully in reaction. Just the skim of a finger over t-shirt and bra amps up my arousal to the next level. What the fuck would happen if he got me naked? He growls and moves his thumb higher. He cups my breast with his whole hand, his thumb grazing over my nipple, and all thought flees my mind. I love the rumble of arousal that vibrates between our mouths. His moan is deep and sonorous, highlighted by my breathier, higher-pitched gasps. It’s a symphony of lust.
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Now, on to the other authors snogging today!