The Heat is On
Page 8

 Elle Kennedy

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No sex, a little voice ordered.
Right, no sex. He took another sip of beer, then set the bottle down on the coffee table.
“So,” he started. “Your dad teaches at Stanford… Does that mean you’re from Palo Alto?”
“Yeah, I grew up there. I moved here after I dropped out of college.”
He grinned. “You’re a college drop-out?”
“Sure am. I was never a school person. I wanted to work with flowers, so I moved down here to work at a nursery one of my mom’s friends owns. When this store came up for sale, she went in on the deal with me. We were partners until about three years ago, and then I bought her out.”
Matt was impressed. Savannah couldn’t be older than twenty-seven, twenty-eight, and she already owned her own business. A successful one, judging by the fact that she’d been able to buy out her partner.
“Where are you from?” she asked him.
“Nashville. Well, just outside of it. My family owns a cattle ranch.”
She laughed. “You’re a cowboy, huh?”
“Naah, I wasn’t cut out for cowboy life. I left home at eighteen, joined the Navy, and now I live here full-time.”
“Too bad.” Her gray eyes darkened to smoky silver. “Cowboys are extremely sexy.”
He swallowed. Fuck, why did she have to look at him like that? Like she wanted to lick him up. He was normally the one dropping the loaded remarks, while his date steered the conversation to more wholesome topics. He found this role reversal totally disconcerting.
Savannah slid closer and rested her hand on his thigh.
Matt nearly jumped off the couch. Her hand was warm, her fingers teasing as she ran them along the denim seam of his jeans.
“How do you like owning your own business?” he blurted out, desperate to ignore the searing bolts of heat moving from the tips of her fingers to his suddenly throbbing thigh.
Savannah let out a sigh. “Are we really going to do this?”
“Do what?”
“Carry on with the idle chitchat when we both know what we really want to do?”
His c**k jerked, strained against his zipper. She instantly noticed the reaction, a small smile spreading across her lush pink lips.
“Look, I don’t like relationships,” she said bluntly. “They don’t interest me. But I am interested in flings. Fun, casual flings, no strings, no promises, just a good time and great sex.”
He wanted to ask why. Why did she hate relationships so much? But his vocal chords had gone numb. She was using his own lines on him. Fun, casual, good time, great sex. He couldn’t even count how many times he’d uttered those exact phrases.
And as much as he wasn’t sure he liked being the recipient of his own speech, the moment the word sex slipped from her luscious mouth, all he could think about was shoving his c**k deep inside her.
“So if you want me—” her gaze moved to the bulge of his crotch, “—and I think you do, what do you say we just skip the tell-me-about-yourself and get to the fun part?”
Chapter Three
Savannah knew she was coming on strong, but blunt had always been her style. From the moment Matt had walked into her apartment, she’d wanted to tear his clothes off. So why shouldn’t she? Life was too short, wasting time pointless. If you wanted something you might as well take it. Well, some things. She wasn’t about to rob a bank to score some extra cash, but when it came to men, why not take what was right in front of you?
She slid closer to Matt’s suddenly tense body, seeing the reluctance in his piercing green eyes. Since he didn’t strike her as the kind of man who did the whole romantic dates and chaste kisses thing, his hesitation confused her.
It also made her all the more determined to seduce him.
Running her fingers up his thigh, she leaned toward him and murmured, “Kiss me.”
Desire flooded his gaze, but the reluctance didn’t dissipate completely. “Don’t you want to get to know each other better first?”
“Not really.” She moved her hand up his chest, her heart doing a little flip at the feel of his rippled abdominal muscles. Jeez, he was rock-hard. Not an ounce of fat on the guy.
She grasped the sides of his open button-down and slowly pushed it off his shoulders. After a beat, he helped her out, sliding his arms out of the sleeves and tossing the shirt aside. She saw his throat working as he visibly swallowed, but he didn’t protest when she reached for the hem of his T-shirt and peeled it off his chest.
Her breath lodged in her chest. Man oh man. His bare chest was spectacular. Almost completely hairless, save for a dusty line of dark hair that arrowed down to the waistband of his jeans. His pecs were huge, stomach flat and boasting a delicious-looking six-pack. She couldn’t help herself—she had to touch. The moment her fingers grazed the tight muscles of his belly, he sucked in a breath then cursed loudly.
“Fine,” he said with a groan.
She grinned. “Fine, what?”
“I’ll have sex with you. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Yep.” She suddenly narrowed her eyes. “You’re not going to cry rape afterwards, are you?”
A laugh burst from his chest. “No. Are you?”
“No.” She paused. “Now take off your pants.”
He raised an arrogant brow. “Do it for me.”
Savannah fought another grin. A challenge. She liked it. Scooting closer, she found the button at his waistband and undid it, then dragged his zipper down. She tugged, but when the material didn’t budge, she hopped off the couch and knelt before him, getting a good grip on his jeans and pulling them down a pair of long, muscular legs that made her pulse race. His boxers came off with the jeans, leaving him gloriously naked on her couch.