Monday, August 21, 2023

S'More Than a Feeling



 💜 S’more Than a Feeling by Marika Ray releases in THREE DAYS in Kindle Unlimited!

𝗣𝗿𝗲𝗢𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗿 ➜ https://mybook.to/SmoreThanAFeeling
𝗔𝗱𝗱 𝘁𝗼 𝗚𝗼𝗼𝗱𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝘀 ➜ https://bit.ly/3KvPz4s

Linc was on the side of his trailer, rinsing himself with a water hose. Water sluiced over his bare skin and traveled lower, getting caught in the swim trunks slung low on his hips. His head was tilted back, eyes shut as the water pelted his face and upper body. My mouth opened on a silent groan. It was like getting an unexpected front-row seat to a strip show. Not that I’d been to one. But I had a feeling it would be a lot like this. The man had added more tattoos to his body since I last saw it naked, each one ratcheting up his hot factor.

When his head came up and he blinked his eyes open, he smiled, leaning down to shut off the water. “Hey,” he whispered, straightening and grabbing a towel slung over the awning of his trailer.

“Hey,” I said back lamely.

He was rubbing that towel all over his body and I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to touch every hard bump of muscle and every dip in between. I wanted to trace every tattoo that dotted his tan skin and feel the tickle of his hair. I wanted to memorize every way in which he’d changed from five years ago. He’d been a young adult back then, but came back all man.

He finally tossed the towel near the door to his trailer and came over. “Sorry. My shower isn’t working.”

I blinked away my wayward thoughts. “It’s okay. But you can always use mine if you need to.” I sucked in a breath, wondering where the hell that invite had come from. I didn’t want him in our private space.

Did I?

A drop of water fell from his hair and landed on his chest. Without even thinking, I reached out and caught it with my finger. And then my finger stayed, tracing down the contours of his torso. Linc inhaled sharply, his muscles flexing as I touched him.

“Keva?” he asked so low I barely heard him.

“Yeah?” I fluttered my eyelids up and locked eyes with him. His were hooded with the same desire I felt pooled in my gut.

“You still mad at me?” he asked. My finger came back up between his pec muscles, feeling the soft scratch of his light chest hair.

“I don’t think so,” I admitted. I didn’t feel angry at all.

He snatched my hand and held it firm in his grip, stopping my movement. “If you keep touching me, you’re going to find yourself on your back.”

My heart fluttered at his threat. I wanted the press of a man against me. And not just any man. This one. Paisley was right. I was a mom, not a nun. I had a right just like anybody else to go after what I wanted.

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