Excerpt: Blame It on the Night

Excerpt from BLAME IT ON THE NIGHT available NOW at Loose Id!

Olivia clapped her hands together. “So are you going to offer me coffee or a beer or something?”

Guy hopped up, but not to head to the kitchen. He pointed to the window. “Don’t you want to get back to town before this gets really bad?”

Olivia stood and, for a moment, thought he could be the murderer, but that made no sense. She knew Guy, or thought she did. He was a good man. “Jeez, not very hospitable, are you?”
“It’s just better if you leave.” His face had been hard when she’d arrived, like there was some unknown emotion scarring it, but it had loosened up as they talked. Now it had returned to granite.

Well, if she’d had any hope of a little fling with Guy while she was up here, that quelled the idea. Not that she’d had the idea. She’d been over her crush for years. She needed to find Amy, fix her problem, and catch the next plane south. No time for personal entanglements. It was just that since she’d seen Guy at the lumberyard, she couldn’t get him out of her mind. And her body…well, it seemed more alive than it had been in months. When she got back to Florida, she’d need to spend some time taking in the nightlife, put herself out there more so she could meet someone. It was her own fault that she spent so much time alone.

He’d opened the door and looked out, but now he was frowning. “Shit.”

“What?” She was still sock-footed, so he couldn’t push her out the door that fast. She followed his gaze and saw…gray, and she could only see that because of the powerful barn and house lights. “Shit.” It wasn’t that the snow had accumulated that much — probably an inch or two of fresh stuff — but the wind had picked up, blowing the devilish ice crystals everywhere.

“And you’re driving that low-to-the-ground rental car. Does it have winter tires on it, at least?” Normal New York conversation, but Guy’s eyes looked intense, like there was a more compelling reason for her to leave than the snow.

“Um, maybe?” she said to keep it light, but Guy’s knuckles were white from holding the door too tight, and his other hand shook as he brushed back his hair. A few stray flakes settled, then melted on his face, leaving tiny drops that Olivia wanted to lick off. Okay, where had that thought come from? She forced herself to look away. “Well, you’re right. I should head out. It’s not too deep yet, so I won’t have to worry about getting stuck in any drifts.”

Guy shut the heavy door against the cold and leaned back, shoving his hands in his pockets. His chest moved with his breath as if he’d just completed a long run. “I could drive you to town with the truck.” Not that he sounded happy with the idea.

Olivia shook her head. “No. Then I’ll be stuck without a car, and I want to keep looking for Amy.”

“I can pick you up in the morning to come get your car.”

“Once I get off your road, it won’t be that bad. Well plowed, I’m sure.” She reached for her still-damp sneakers and walked over to the half-log bench at the trestle table to put them on. She tried not to think about the deep ditches on either side of Guy’s unlit, narrow road.

“And you don’t even have boots.” His hand was out of his pocket and through his hair again, leaving odd little peaks that somehow made him look sexier.

“The car has a very nice heater.” She didn’t know why she was arguing with the truck idea. It was sensible. Maybe it was that he seemed so unwilling; she didn’t want to obligate him to come get her in the morning. Shoes on, she popped up, grabbed her coat, and walked to the door, which he still blocked with his large body. “Seriously, there’s not much on the ground if I leave now. No problem.”

He shook his head slowly, his jaw clamped, his eyes looking over her head instead of at her, his hands jammed in his pockets again. He certainly didn’t look like he was going to move.
Olivia took a step forward and reached for the door handle just below his elbow. She hoped ingrained manners would get him to move to the side. His hand flashed out and grabbed her forearm.

Jeez, maybe she should revisit the murderer idea.

“You have to leave.” His voice was like grinding stone.

She rolled her eyes as she looked down at his hand on her arm. “Then you have to move out of my way.”

“Leave, dammit.” But now he gripped her shoulders with both his hands to the point of pain, and something happened with his eyes.

Olivia blinked, and Guy’s eyes seemed normal again, but his thighs pressed against hers, making her stumble backward, toward the table. He didn’t loosen his grip, and Olivia abandoned her protest because of her sudden awareness of Guy’s muscular thighs, warm hands, and musky scent. Why was he saying one thing so passionately but doing the exact opposite, like his body was possessed? One minute his piercing gaze set her body on fire, the next he stared over her head as if he couldn’t look at her.

When her butt hit the edge of the table, she squeaked. “Um, if you want me to leave, you’re walking me in the wrong direction.” Her body didn’t want to leave, despite his alarming behavior. Her body wanted to strip naked and writhe underneath him.

Well, there was no doubt about his intent as he spread her thighs around his waist, pushed her down to the table, and overwhelmed her with his hard body — hard being the operative word. The memory of the party — the memory of her first orgasm — hit her full force, with all the sensory detail from his body back then, his kindness, his hot kisses. But this man was rough as he unsnapped and unzipped her jeans. He didn’t seem concerned with her state of arousal; he was ready to go. Thing was, that turned her on even more. She wanted to be taken; she wanted to receive the brunt of his uncontrollable desire.

But he hadn’t even kissed her yet.

Why not?

She wanted to let him drag her jeans to her knees, rip away her panties, strip her just enough to fuck her. She wanted to give in to his intensity and get swept away in sensation alone, but there was no tenderness. No, that wasn’t it. She didn’t expect tenderness in a night of hot sex, but she did expect connection, and there was some sort of disconnect here. This was not the man she’d talked to at the lumberyard today, and he certainly wasn’t the college boy she’d known long ago. When he slipped one hand under her shirt and bra to play with her nipples, his eyes met hers and took her breath away. But a second later, he looked beyond her, and he tightened his grip on her breast and forced her against the table, the old wood too solid to break and his body too rigid to give way. He twisted her nipples to the point of pain, but she found that made her hotter.

Why didn’t he kiss her?

He slid a hand — she’d lost track of which hand was where — into her pants, under her panties, and with his calloused fingers, rubbed her clit unrelentingly until it was slick and humming. He slid his hand farther, until his palm skimmed her clit, and he shoved his finger into her hole. She closed her eyes and thought about the past, about humping his leg, not knowing what she was doing, just losing herself in pleasure. With his free hand, he started to yank down her jeans, and she so wanted to let him strip her naked, but she grabbed his wrist. This had gone far enough.

“Look, this is nice and all, but I think I better leave now.”

For a second, it seemed like he didn’t hear her, but then he froze. “I don’t know what I’m doing.” His breathing was so ragged he could barely get the words out. “Your smell…God, your smell…”

It sounded like an insult, but since he still had his fingers in her wet pussy, rubbing her G-spot, she didn’t think it was. “Just let me up now, okay?”

But then his eyes turned amber, and she felt a surge of energy that increased the sensitivity of every nerve in her body. His skin was on fire, as if a sun had exploded inside him. She rethought her protest. Her pants were gone, and his were following suit. She couldn’t walk away from this; her need was too great. Every one of his fingers was inside her, thrusting hard, the friction of his palm making her clit oversensitive. She wanted to tell him to stop, to remove his hand, but she wanted him to continue, to make her come, her juices soaking his skin, his fingers feeling the pulsing through her hole. She moaned.

“Kiss me,” she demanded breathlessly, hoping to connect with the real Guy, to feel like he was aware of who she was and not just someone to fuck.

But his kiss devoured her, swallowing her lips as he slid his tongue across her teeth and sucked on her tongue. She had no control over this kiss. He rubbed his cock against her stomach. He’d ripped her shirt open, though she couldn’t remember when, and his precum slathered her skin. Still kissing her violently, he removed his wet hand from her pussy and slid it up her hip. He lifted her higher, pushed her back, and sank inside of her. It shocked her because it had been a while and his dick was bigger than she’d expected. Even though she was dripping wet, he stretched her uncomfortably. He thrust deeper and deeper; she’d never had a man so deep inside her. Again, each lancing contact almost hurt. He spread her legs wider and locked them in place with his steel arms. He pounded her relentlessly, and she held on to his shoulders for dear life, feeling his muscles flex, his whole body intent on fucking her.

“More. God, harder!” She couldn’t believe she wanted him to consume her, control her, not give her a say as he took her. It turned her on beyond belief.

But then the amber faded, and his eyes were hazel again. He relaxed his speed, and she nearly died. She’d been so close, but she knew this calmer pace would allow them both to hold out longer, to build the pressure even more. His kiss gentled, his tongue taking the time to taste and explore. She allowed her tongue to roam as well, noting the beer flavor in his mouth, noticing the stubble under his nose as it tickled her upper lip. He slowed his thrusts, and she squeezed her inner walls until he moaned with each entry.

He pulled out almost completely, making her strain her hips to keep him inside, but then he eased back in, arching his hips so he hit her sensitive G-spot. She didn’t mean to, but she shouted out — no words, just an expression of the bliss she felt. He freed one of his hands to push her shirt off completely, and he leaned in to suck her nipple, then took her whole breast into his mouth, a different feeling. Intense. Olivia’s eyes closed and her mouth opened, and she lost control of the sounds coming from her. It didn’t matter that this was Guy or what their history was or why she’d come up here in the first place. She just wanted him to touch her in any way possible. Her muscles clenched, and she knew the pleasure was about to crest.

Available NOW at LOOSE ID!