Bare Knuckle: Vegas Top Guns, Book 5 Read Online Free PDF Page A

here,” he growled against her mouth.
    “What? You’re not serious.”
    “Why not? I’m ready. You’re ready. Open those long legs of yours, showgirl.”
    Oh shit. She was in trouble. Heaps of it. The image he planted in her mind was almost inescapable. Sweaty bodies and steamed windows. One stiletto slung over the bench seat as he bulldozed her against the leather. Both of them clothed except where he shoved her panties aside and undid his fly.
    Something brutal and beautiful and raw. It’d been so long.
    Then there was the danger of getting caught. Someone could be spying from the darkened window of a nearby house. Or a cop might decide to watch them explode, the Camaro rocking beneath Eric’s fierce thrusts. Only after busting him would the cop wank in his squad car.
    She could get off to that idea for years. It fueled her fantasies, knowing men liked how she looked in her bikini. Sometimes she lay awake touching herself, imagining she was hot enough to get them hard. It was crass and it sure as hell wasn’t how she wanted to be treated in real life, but that rarely had anything to do with where a mind wandered during dark hours.
    Eric renewed his sensual assault. No, there was nothing sensual to it. His fingers tightened over her breast. He hefted the weight in his palm, kneading. His breath was a heavy rasp. Jesus, his body. To ride him would be like riding a Mack truck.
    “No.”
    Where had that come from?
    She’d said it. And she meant it. The reasons took longer to catch up with the primal part of her brain that wanted and wanted and wanted. Didn’t matter. If she was going to have a fun time with this guy, she was going to do it on terms that didn’t make her puke in the morning.
    At least he stopped. That was good news. Some guys took longer to fend off. She’d been young and stupid and saved from the worst out of pure luck. To be frank, she wasn’t young anymore, but this was definitely a stupid moment. Eric Donaghue could’ve been a painful mistake rather than a potentially embarrassing or foolish one.
    He frowned. “No?”
    Trish gave his fierce muscles another squeeze and let go. He did the same with her breast, but he held fast to the back of her head. They were so amped up that their breaths met between their wet mouths. The Camaro’s roaring engine rumbled into her slick pussy. She was so damn restless.
    “Jack Daniels. Straight up. You promised.”
    He swallowed a groan. “I bet you’ve heard the word cocktease.”
    “More often than I’ve heard men say my real name. But I didn’t touch your cock.”
    “Do it.”
    “I said no. Bar, remember?”
    “Just a preview.”
    Trish closed her eyes on a flash flood of guh .
    “Look at me,” he murmured. “Now, did you mean it? Are we still talking about a one-night stand?”
    Don’t lie. He’ll know a lie. I’ll regret a lie.
    “Yes.”
    “Then what’s the harm?”
    Her brain was like a circuit breaker fried by a lightning strike. “No harm. As long as we stop. One-night stand doesn’t mean quickie.”
    His lopsided smile—the lips turning up on the unscarred side of his face—was oddly endearing. Ninety seconds after having been stopped cold, he was amused . “You got me there.”
    “Okay.”
    “No, wait.” He caught her hand, both of them unsteady. She needed that proof he wasn’t completely stoic and unaffected. That would’ve killed her libido and ended their night. “I want to watch you when you touch me. I want to see the satisfaction in your eyes.”
    Desire shivered through her body and settled in the pit of her stomach, but it wasn’t just desire. It was…wariness? He was speaking the language of her sexual imagination. Some might call it a fetish.
    Voyeur. Exhibitionist. Inexorably linked.
    Was that possible, that he might’ve known—or better still, that his needs might dovetail with hers? All the more reason to take the night slow. If it was going to be good because he was hot and they were both ready, it