When Snow Falls (Whiskey Creek #2)(27)
Author: Brenda Novak

“Chey?” The vulnerability in his voice told her he was afraid she might reject him. Apparently, he wasn’t quite as cocky as he’d seemed at the park.

Butterflies rioted in her stomach as she stared at his outstretched hand. She dared not touch him, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask him to leave, either. She stood locked in indecision—until he gave her more encouragement.

“It’s okay. I won’t take it too far.”

“How far is too far?” She heard the breathless quality in her own voice but, at the moment, couldn’t seem to speak normally. Her pulse was racing so fast it was making her dizzy.

“Any further than you want to go,” he replied. “You call the shots.”

She wasn’t convinced she could rely on that promise. But if he was dangerous to women, she would’ve heard about it by now. Her sister went over to his place all the time. When he got in trouble with the law, it was for speeding, fighting, possession of unregistered firearms, setting off illegal fireworks—misdemeanors that suggested he had problems with authority, not women. He’d never been picked up for anything sexual in nature.

“I’d hate to get you excited and then…you know, bail out.” She swallowed hard. “But I don’t know what I want. I’m not even sure why I called you. It took me over an hour to get up the nerve.”

“I wondered. But I’m not asking for any kind of commitment.” He crooked his fingers, coaxing her. “Why don’t we start with a simple kiss?”

A kiss sounded innocuous enough. She wanted to kiss him, didn’t she?

Slipping her hand in his, she allowed him to tug her forward. But when his arms went around her, bringing her up against his body, she nearly balked. She didn’t know this man. The solid muscular frame, the hair that fell to his shoulders, the eyes that watched her so closely—it was all foreign to her.

But any man would feel foreign to her. She hadn’t been on a date since Joe’s divorce. The last guy she’d kissed had been twenty-five years her senior and had asked permission.

Dylan seemed cautious, as if he was trying hard not to spook her, but he wasn’t tentative. He knew what he wanted and was working on the best way to get it.

“You smell like Christmas trees and cigarette smoke,” she said as her cheek brushed his.

He rubbed his lips against her ear as he spoke. “I’m sorry. I should quit.”

For his health, he should. But he’d misinterpreted her comment. “I don’t mind the smell,” she admitted. “My mother smoked until recently. Now Presley does. I’m used to it.”

“Your mother is…where?”

Although he was taller by at least six inches, she fit nicely against him. “In her room. Asleep.”

Tilting her head back with both hands, he looked down at her as though he wished he could read her mind, understand her intent. She recalled her earlier opinion—that he had cruel eyes—but they didn’t seem cruel tonight. A soft, liquid brown, they held a world of sensual promise, which he began to fulfill when he brought his lips to hers.

Cheyenne didn’t resist. The contact felt surprisingly natural, considering how little they knew each other. She liked the feel of his mouth, firm yet soft, moving on hers, so much that she leaned closer and parted her lips.

He groaned as their tongues met, sending a wave of awareness through her that weakened her knees. When she answered with a similar sound, his arms tightened until she could feel his erection against her abdomen.

They’d barely touched and yet they were already getting swept away. It felt as if they’d been waiting for this moment their whole lives.

She slipped her hands into his hair, let the silky strands slide through her fingers. She couldn’t taste any alcohol—just spearmint, as if he’d eaten a breath mint on his way over.

“That’s it,” he murmured as she kissed him harder. “I can give you what you want.”

As he trailed kisses down her throat, his hands found their way inside her robe. She thought he’d immediately go for her br**sts. They tingled with the desire to be touched. But he slid his palms up her back instead, perhaps to make sure that she was comfortable with such intimacy.

“I’ve wanted to feel you against me for years,” he said.

She didn’t know how that could be true. She’d pretty much ignored his existence. But whatever they’d felt before didn’t matter. Right now she was drowning in desire, so much so she feared her legs wouldn’t have the strength to support her if he let go.

When his hands finally found her br**sts, Cheyenne gasped and covered them with her own. A gratified smile told her he took that for the encouragement it was. Kissing her again, he bent her slightly back, then dropped his head to suckle her through the silky fabric of her nightgown.

“Oh…that feels amazing,” she whispered. How could he bring her to a state of arousal so quickly, so easily? She’d felt nothing but mild affection for Principal Kovinski when they made out after their last date. If not for her fantasies about Joe she would’ve feared she was frigid. Never had she been tempted beyond her ability to resist.

But the fire burning through her veins left no doubt that her body was as healthy and normal as anyone else’s. Maybe she was a little late in embracing her sexuality, but the need building inside her was already turning to an expectant throb between her legs.

She wanted to feel Dylan inside her.

It was a shocking revelation, so shocking that she pulled back.

He seemed reluctant to let her go. He stared at her as if he couldn’t make himself turn away, but he did—and without complaint. When she realized he was leaving, that he thought she’d stomped on the brakes, she caught him by the shoulder.

“No!” she said, and started yanking off his jacket.

She sensed his surprise that he’d misread her intent. Or maybe he was surprised by her sudden aggressiveness. It wasn’t like her to be so forward. But she couldn’t seem to rein herself in.

Fortunately, he didn’t hesitate. He shed his coat. Then he pulled his thermal over his head.

She’d known he had tattoos on his arms. She’d seen them before. There were more on his chest. She couldn’t tell what they were in the dark, couldn’t see clearly enough. But she didn’t really care. Being able to feel him was all that mattered.

As he tossed away his shirt, she explored the sinewy contours of his chest and arms with her hands and mouth. It was insane, inexplicable, but she wanted to do things to him she’d never imagined before, and he didn’t seem to mind. She could hear the change in his breathing, knew he was feeling the same crush of excitement.