Light in Mourning (Mourning, #2) by Adriane Leigh Read Free Book Online

off much earlier than any sane person should ever get up and she hauled my ass out of bed to start the turkey. We were sharing a bed at my dad’s house, but that’s all we were doing. My dad had told embarrassing stories the night before—he was always chatty when company was over; too chatty for my liking. He regaled Georgia with stories of when I was eight and fell out of a tree and had to get my arm casted. And when I goosed the babysitter when I was eleven and was forced to apologize. She’d laughed hysterically at that and I’d only shrugged. The sexual prowess that had rolled off me from a young age couldn’t be contained. She’d socked me in the shoulder for that one and before she could lean away, I’d pressed her lips to mine in a kiss. She froze and then shoved me away with an indulgent smile.  
    So here I was at four in the morning, basting a turkey while Georgia fluttered around me. How could she be so fucking awake at this hour? I was dragging ass all over the place. Finally, she leaned down and slid the bird into the oven. On her way back up, I wrapped my arms around her waist and skimmed my nose along the line of her neck.  
    “Back to bed,” I murmured.  
    “We have to be up in a few hours to baste again.” She wrapped her arms around my own, which were locked at her waist.  
    “I just want you to myself today.”
    “Can’t leave people hungry on Thanksgiving.” I heard the smile in her voice.  
    “I won’t go hungry.” I thrust my hips into her ass and nipped at the flesh of her neck.  
    “You are relentless,” she murmured as she turned in my arms and pressed her lips to mine. I kissed her and ran my hands up her back, pressing her body into mine, feeling every curve and dip.
    “I wish you were naked right now,” I murmured against her lips.  
    “You're a hornball,” she mumbled between kisses.  
    “Your fault for making me wait. It’s torture not being inside you,” I muttered.
    I heard her breath hitch at my words. “You wouldn’t in your dad’s kitchen.”
    “I definitely would in my dad’s kitchen.” I eased her back against the counter and captured her lips with mine. She wove her fingers in my hair as our tongues tangled together.
    “Bedroom.” She finally pulled away. I lifted her into my arms and she wrapped her legs around my hips without a word. I carried her down the hall and laid her out on the bed beneath me before pressing her lips to my own and thrusting my hips against hers. So fucking soft and smooth, her scent surrounding me, her hair fanned out on the white sheets—I wanted her so fucking bad, I couldn’t see straight.  
    “Can I have a minute?” She pulled away.  
    “Okay.” I watched her as she gave me one last peck and crawled out from beneath me. She trotted to the bathroom and I lay back on the bed to wait for her. I was so keyed up, my bloodstream hummed with need for her. I didn’t know how much longer I could take things slow. I was just hoping she would break soon because if she didn’t, I would. There was only so much a man could take, and I knew what it felt like to be buried inside her.  
    I fucking needed it.  
    I needed her.  
    I groaned and tossed my arm over my eyes as I waited. If she didn’t hurry up, I would need to take things into my own hands, which probably wouldn’t be a bad idea, considering I would probably be a two-pump chump when I finally was deep inside her again. I settled back into the pillow and waited.  

    “You should have woken me up.” I smacked her on the ass as she was setting the table later that day. Dad was plopped in front of the TV watching football, and Georgia and I were getting together the last few things for dinner.  
    “You looked so peaceful, and I figured if you’d fallen asleep . . .” she murmured and pecked me on the lips chastely. I groaned. I’d fallen a-fucking-sleep waiting for her to come out of the bathroom in the wee hours of the morning after she’d woken me up