Flyboy
©Copyright, Nicole Austin
All Rights Reserved
Note: Nicole Austin’s Books are intended for those readers 18 years old or older.
Her nostrils flared as the door banged open. “Honey, we’re home,” Tank teased.
Dodger must have seen something in her eyes. He was the first one through the door and came to an abrupt stop to give her a wary stare. The other guys didn’t notice he’d come to a halt and slammed into his back.
“Jeez, Dodger. What the hell are you…?” Tank’s voice trailed off as his gaze met hers. He cursed under his breath, “Oh shit!”
Jhett pushed his way around the other men. His gaze raked her body, taking in the furrowed forehead and narrowed eyes brimming with fire, along with the deceptive relaxation of her body. Long tendrils of hair had escaped her neat braid to frame her face. Twyla stood with her weight balanced on the balls of her feet, a battle-ready posture.
Damn if she didn’t look sexy as hell when mad.
Of course, he had to open his mouth and insert his foot. “What’s the matter with you?”
Dumbass. Why couldn’t he leave it alone? Why did he have to antagonize her?
“What’s the matter with me?”
On the surface her tone sounded calm, but underneath he detected the fierce rage simmering. This would not be pretty. She held up a hand and ticked off each point on her fingers. “Let’s see. You put the entire mission at risk. Blew your cover with some local talent. Put all the other guys in danger. Had a playground brawl in an unsecured area…” Her hands went to her hips and she glared at him. “Do I need to continue?”
Jesus. The heat of her passion washed over him and Jhett’s body responded by tightening. His cock swelled and demanded release from the confines of his jeans. And he knew right where his erection belonged, where he longed to be. Repeatedly.
Playing with this particular fire may get him burned, but he was willing to take the risk. He took a measured step forward. “And?”
Twyla tilted her head to the side and stared at him as if studying an interesting bug under a magnifying glass. “And,” she huffed, “you blew it with your macho bullshit. Charging off to be alone, keeping everyone at a distance, remaining silent—”
“Macho bullshit?” Now he was getting irritated.
“Yes, macho bullshit. Like the four of you fighting. Such total macho crap!”
Desire to take action flashed in her eyes. “And you wouldn’t take a swing at me right now, Miss Holier-than-Thou?”
A sexy growl rumbled up from her chest. He must be pretty damn warped for that sound to turn him on considering her anger, but it did. His cock jerked and his abdomen clenched. Stupid as taunting her may be, he took another step forward and noted the signs of arousal the fiery woman tried to keep hidden. She may conduct most of her battles from behind a computer monitor, but there was no doubt Twyla was a warrior who enjoyed a good fight.
Her nipples had elongated into hard little points stretching the front of her shirt and her breasts appeared swollen, heavy with need. A delightful pink flush spread from her face and down her neck to disappear beneath her collar. As he took another step her nostrils flared and her breathing quickened, causing those gorgeous breasts to rise and fall faster. Her pupils were wide with only a sliver of green ringing them. Unable to keep her hands still, her palms rubbed from her hips to upper thighs in a constant motion and she seemed to lean a bit forward.
Jhett gave a slight nod. “You were worried…about me.” A sense of awe made his voice tremble. “I’m fine, honey.” He opened his arms wide, letting her get a good look to see he was unharmed.
The punch came out of nowhere smashing into his gut and knocking the wind out of him. Twyla packed one hell of a wallop. He stumbled back a step and doubled over, wrapping both arms over his abused abdomen. Damn, he should have anticipated her striking out. “What the fuck did you do that for?” he wheezed. Now he sounded wimpy and pathetic.
“You were being a jerk!” His eyes watered as he watched her back away from him, not stopping until more than halfway across the room with a wary look flashing in her eyes. As if he would ever hurt her.
The off-handed comment and her reaction fired his temper. No matter how much he wanted to hold back and allay her fears, it just wasn’t possible. “Watch it, hellion!” The words came out harsher than he intended, almost a growl. He glared at her in warning and right before his eyes something appeared to break inside Twyla. She closed the remaining distance between them at full speed and launched herself into the air, slamming against his chest and knocking the breath from his lungs. He caught her in an unyielding embrace as she wrapped herself around him tighter than a python, legs clasped over his hips, arms around his shoulders, lips sealed to his.
There was nothing tentative in her kiss. She unleashed every emotion held in check for too long in a voracious and ravenous blast. Her kiss was full of hunger and want and need. Fingernails dug into his back as she tried to burrow beneath his skin. The small bite of pain fired his libido, prompting Jhett to respond in kind.
Lips parted, teeth clashed, tongues surged, laying claim. He captured the soft mewl from her mouth and pulled the sound into his body while his tongue tangled, searched, tasted, conquered. There was no denying the intense desire coursing through them and no turning back. Heat pulsed, hands ripped at clothes, bodies pressed closer but they couldn’t get close enough.
The door slammed behind the team as they made a hasty retreat, catching his attention. Jhett spun around to find they were alone. He hadn’t cared if the guys were there—had forgotten them in fact—but was relieved to have Twyla alone. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to self destruct. The door was the closest hard surface. Jhett propelled them against it, letting his forearms take the impact.
“I need…” she cried then sucked on his tongue with hard and insistent pulls, showing him without words just what she wanted. What they both had to have.
“Yes. Now.” She’d reduced him to monosyllabic replies. “Clothes off.”
Their efforts were hampered by the unwillingness to let go for even a second. Fisting the thin material of her shirt, he ripped it straight down the center. Having no patience for the bra, he shoved the cups beneath her breasts.
“Aw, Christ!” He was a goner. They were more perfect than he’d imagined. The soft globes quivered with her erratic breathing. Her rosy areolas puckered tight around ripe nipples he had no ability to resist. Burying his face in her cleavage, he took a deep breath. She smelled of honeysuckle blooms—feminine, warm and inviting.
“Jhett,” she gasped as his lips closed over her nipple and he suckled the firm bud. Damn, she tasted even better than she smelled—soft and sweet. And one-hundred percent his.