Meet Cute (Love, Camera, Action Book 5) by Elise Faber (red white and royal blue hardcover .TXT) 📕

to be kissed. Her body was gently curved, the evidence of her job in every muscle. Strong arms, shoulders, and legs, a slender waist, hips a man could hold on to.

“Tal,” she whispered, crossing her arms beneath her breasts, the injury on her arm visible and infuriating.

Hurt because of me.

Hurt that was my fault.

But I was going to make her feel good.

I reached into the nightstand, extracted a condom, and set it on the wood. Then I turned my full attention to this woman, to discovering what gave her pleasure. I climbed onto the mattress, nudged her legs wide, and I kissed her, careful to brace my weight with one hand.

The other slid down her side, cupped her breast, capturing one beaded nipple between thumb and forefinger.

She moaned, her head thrown back, her hips bucking against mine. “Please.”

It was a whispered plea, her uninjured arm lifting, fingers threading into my hair and tugging my head down to her breast, and I’ll admit that I got lost there for a minute. For . . . much longer than a minute as I lavished her breasts with my tongue, with my teeth, with my lips. I nipped at the delicate undersides, sucked the sensitive tips deep, traced the soft skin with my tongue.

A soft sheen of sweat coated her body, kissing the tip of my tongue with salt as I dragged it lower, across her torso, delving into the soft dip of her navel, the creases on either side of her pelvis.

Then along the folds of her labia, nuzzling into the damp heat, using my lips against hers so I could taste her sweet musk. Her fingers, still in my hair, convulsed, drawing me nearer, and I focused on the spot that had made her react, filing away what made her squirm, what made more of those soft, breathy moans emerge, what had her head tossing back again, her hips jerking and grinding against my mouth.

“Tal—”

Her voice changed, hitched, her skin glistening in the sunlight, making me so damned glad that I hadn’t closed the blinds, so fucking thankful that I could see every expression on her face, every line of her body. The play of desire through her eyes, the way her lips deepened to a dusky pink, the cords of her neck standing out in sharp relief. Her breasts heaving in time to her breath, her rib cage expanding and contracting, her thighs wrapped tight around me.

And then she froze.

And then she made that hitched sound again, and I knew she was there, that she was ready to explode, that I just needed to nudge her over the precipice.

I pressed the flat of my tongue to her clit, slipped another finger inside, and I put every single trick I’d garnered over the years, everything I’d learned about her body over the last minutes to good use.

To good benefit.

Because her breathing sped up, the movement of her hips increased, her moans rose in volume, and then . . . she crumpled.

Her moans softened. Her thighs went limp. Her fingers loosened their grip.

I slowed my strokes, slipped my fingers free, gently dragged my lips from her, brushing them light over either thigh, pressing a light kiss to each before moving up her body and lying on her uninjured side.

“You’re fucking beautiful,” I murmured, stroking my thumb over the swathe of pink on her cheeks.

She tilted her head to look at me, and I couldn’t read what was in her eyes. But when she spoke, her words were light. They were also sexy as hell, and complete confidence, just a glimpse of that chip on her shoulder—in the form of one arched brow. “Is there a reason you’re not inside me yet?”

My cock twitched. But—

“Yeah, about that,” I began.

Her expression changed, and I hated that there was a glimpse of embarrassment in her eyes before they darted away, and she started to sit up. That sliver of insecurity had me quickly cupping her cheeks.

“Hey, that’s—”

“It’s okay,” she said, propping herself on one elbow and pushing up. “I get it.” A chuckle that sounded completely different from the few natural ones I’d managed to coax from her sounded completely wrong.

“You don’t get it.” I shifted my hips close, letting her feel the hard length of my cock. “I want you, baby,” I murmured. “Certainly more than any other woman I’ve ever wanted”—she scoffed—“It’s true. I just . . . I’m not convinced that you won’t regret doing this when not under the influence of narcotics. And you were hurting, baby. I don’t want you to be in more pain because of me. I—”

One swift move, and I found myself on my back, beautiful, naked woman crawling on top of me, her fingers circling my cock.

Chapter Ten

Tammy

I probably should be getting up, running from the room, yanking that T-shirt and sweats back on.

I certainly shouldn’t be reaching for the condom, tearing it open with my teeth, rolling it down the length of his hard cock.

I definitely shouldn’t be ignoring the protesting stitches on my upper arm as I positioned him between my thighs, dropped down enough to take the tip of his erection inside.

But . . . it had been so long.

I wanted this man, my need bordering on desperately wanting him. He was sweet and he’d slept in the chair next to me, watching over me (in a non-creepy way—or at least, that was how I was taking it). He’d called in a doctor to take care of me. He’d helped me with the pain pills and getting changed and to the bathroom. Sweet. Lovely. So freaking out of my league.

But for the moment, he was with me.

He was looking hotly at me, at my body, at my face like I was beautiful and feminine, seeing my strength as an asset instead of as something that took away.

And his cock was hard for me.

I knew this couldn’t last; fairy tales didn’t come in the form of Hollywood hunks falling for small-town female police