By the time we made it to the porch and she flipped on the overhead lights, I’d forgotten she had my phone. Sienna turned, opened her mouth to tell me something, but I stopped her by capturing her bottom lip with my teeth.
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes widened.
Her body tensed.
I liked that I’d surprised her, could taste it in the air between us.
I licked her lip and slipped my arm around her waist, gripping a handful of her ass. I needed the flavor of her on my tongue and the softness of her body beneath my grip. I wasn’t going to lift her skirt on the porch, but I could show her how much I wanted to.
Sienna moaned, long lashes drifting shut, relaxing against me while she swept her tongue out to invite me in. She arched, her body stretching along mine, pressing her tits to my chest and her rounded ass into my palm. Everywhere our bodies met, heat spread like wildfire. Spikes of cold and hot traveled up my spine and down my legs, causing my hips to roll in an instinctive rhythm.
Pulling her mouth from mine, Sienna said on a gasp, “Jethro, this is such a bad idea.”
I was about to ask her if she wanted me to stop when she dug her fingers into my scalp and brought my mouth to her neck. “Don’t stop.”
Her contradicting messages had me smiling against her skin. It may have been a bad idea, making out on the front porch of Hank Weller’s cabin for anyone to see. Well, anyone passing by—which no one ever did—or her guards to stumble upon—which was more likely. But I didn’t want to let her go.
“I want to touch your heat.” I nipped the underside of her jaw, telling her what I wanted to do but couldn’t presently make a reality. Not yet. “Slide my fingers inside.”
“Holy shit I love your accent,” she breathed out in a rush, more like holyshitIloveyouraccent. “Say something else.”
“What do you want me to say?”
“Anything! Anything that makes you hot.”
“What about making you hot?”
“I’m guessing anything that makes you hot will also make me hot.”
“Fine then, I want to leave love bites here.” I palmed her breast and massaged, rubbing my thumb in a slow circle around her nipple. I wanted to suck her skin between my teeth, and soothe the sting with my tongue. “I want to feel you beneath me, panting, moaning . . .”
My face was still buried in her neck, my fingers pulling aside the edge of her shirt to expose the skin of her shoulder, when I heard a soft click.
I stiffened, a new kind of adrenaline—the kind laced with frustration and dread—pumped through my veins. I immediately lifted my head, searching for the source of the sound. Preparing to smash both the cameras and the heads of any voyeurs lurking nearby, my initial sweep revealed no one but us.
Sienna was watching me with a dazed, but sublimely happy expression. And her arm was raised to one side, the screen of the phone facing us. Set to camera mode.
It took me near a full minute before I comprehended that Sienna had used my cell to snap a picture.
“What did you—”
“Look. I’m going to make this my avatar on your phone.” She caught her bottom lip between her teeth and gave me a naughty grin, then showed me the screen. It was a picture of us making out, her head thrown back, her neck and shoulder exposed, and it was very, very hot. Sienna continued on a seductive whisper, “So every time I call . . .”
I shook my head, both loving and hating her idea. “You are so bad.”
“If I’m so bad, then why are you smiling, Ranger?”
I stole another kiss, rolling my hips against hers because I now knew she liked it, waited until I felt her body tense with urgency, then pulled away and snatched my phone from her fingers.
Walking backward, I enjoyed watching her chest rise and fall with heavy breaths, liked how her eyes were clouded and hungry. Grinning, I left her on the porch and tossed my answer over my shoulder as I strolled away. “Because you’re also very, very good.”
I was in trouble.
My cell phone company alerted me late Sunday afternoon that I’d nearly used up all my text messages for the entire month. I suspected the seventy-five or so texts I’d exchanged with Sienna since Friday night were the cause.
So I called and upgraded to the unlimited plan.
But that’s not why I was in trouble.
I was in trouble because I’ve never been the text-messaging sort. I figure, you got something to say and you expect me to pay attention, it better be important. If it’s important, you call or stop by.
It took just three minutes and one quick exchange with Sienna on Saturday morning for me to change my tune.
Sienna: What are you doing?
Jethro: Cutting buttresses for the carriage house. You?