The Woodsman (Lust in the Woods #1) by Alexa Sinclaire (@AlexaSinclaire)
That long blonde hair, sexy hippy-style and a laugh that makes me want to fall to my knees and worship her body– Katy Williams is slowly driving me crazy. I moved out to the woods to get away from everything, including women with ulterior motives. But now she’s living next door to me, inviting me for dinner and giving me blueberry muffins. And she’s all I can think about. But can I trust that behind that smile there isn’t a woman just waiting to get her claws into me? After all, I’ve been fooled once….
I’m done with men. Well, at least done with men who happily take my money and my heart and suck me dry. Sam Hess, with his man-bun and wild woodsman look, is a whole other matter. I can’t stay away from him, no matter how much I try and when he needs me, there’s no way I won’t stand by his side. But what happens when he doesn’t need me anymore? I don’t think I can survive having my heart broken again. And they always stop needing you, don’t they?
Handing her the drink, I sat down next to her and threw back the vodka in one go. She did the same and put her drink on the wooden coffee table. Leaning back, she exhaled slowly.
I should have gotten up then. But I didn’t want to. I wanted to make sure she was all right. I wanted to sit here next to her, feel the heat from her thigh so close to mine. If I moved just an inch, I’d be touching her. I wanted to undo her braids and see how that light hair fell around her breasts. I wanted her to say my name again, like she had before.
I pictured her all breathless and panting. But this time it wouldn’t be from fear. It would be from heat. My fingers twitched with the urge to plunge them into that hair and make her beg for my mouth.
I startled as I felt her sit up and lean close to me as she ran her fingers through my hair.
“I thought it would be longer.”
I’d taken my hair out of the bun when I got home. And thank fuck I had because now she was touching me. The woman was touching me and I couldn’t take it. Turning to face her, I wrapped a hand around the back of her neck to hold her in place and pressed my mouth against hers.
The softness of her lips with a hint of strawberries that didn’t seem like strawberries at all and more like sex and something else hit me. The desire to find out what else she tasted like elsewhere fueled my lust and channeled straight to my cock. Without giving her a chance to even respond, I licked her lips and delved in as she opened her mouth, just a small gap, but enough for me to slip my tongue into. And we groaned in unison.
Leaning against her more, I lowered her to the couch. Propped on one elbow, I grabbed her breast with my free hand. Warm and heavy against my palm, the hint of soft flesh I could suck and nibble spurred me on. Her nipple hardened and she let out a gasp when I released her mouth.
But only for a second.
I couldn’t stop.
The taste of her, the wet heat of her tongue against mine, drove me crazy. As cliché as it felt to admit, even to myself, Katy was provoking a need in a me I’d never felt with any other woman.
I was never going to stop.
One of her hands remained grabbing my hair. She rested the other on my shoulder. I shifted our bodies and pushed between her thighs, grinding against her core. Her body. Her heat. Soft noises escaped her mouth as I touched her.
It all felt so damn good.
I moved my mouth to the side of her neck, inhaling the scent of her skin, the vanilla shampoo she used tickling my nose. I was about to move lower when she whispered my name.
It was barely a whisper, a breath, a hint of my name. But it was there. And I couldn’t ignore it.
I sat up and looked at what I’d done to her.
Jesus, I’d mauled her.
Her mouth was swollen and red from my rough kiss, her shirt disheveled where I’d manhandled her tit. Her thighs were spread, evidence of the dry-humping I’d fully intended to turn legitimate had she not said my name. I wanted her to look like a woman who needed me, full of a burning lust she needed me to fuck out of her.
Instead, she looked traumatized.
“Lock your door when I leave.” I stood and turned and stomped out, slamming the door behind me.
About Alexa Sinclaire
Alexa Sinclaire writes erotic romance: the hotter the better. Originally from the East Coast, she now lives in England with her very own Alpha male British husband.
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