Night Moves by Thea Devine Read Free Book Online Page A

Truck found he liked that thought—a lot. It meant he had a chance; she wasn’t going anywhere—yet.
    â€œAnd my friends,” she repeated softly.
    â€œThat’s the way it is in Paradise,” he murmured, setting aside his glass and reaching for his T-shirt. “I left my stuff under the house.” He wrapped the shirt around his neck. “Finished?” He took her glass and his back into the kitchen.
    Carrie jumped up and followed him, then wished she hadn’t. In the small square kitchen, he loomed like danger, his bare chest radiating heat, his gaze glimmering with something she did not want to define. This was crazy. She didn’t know why she hadn’t stayed on the porch. It wasn’t as if he didn’t know where to put the glasses. He’d set them right in the sink and even put the lemonade pitcher in the fridge. A man who knew his way around the kitchen. She should like that. She just didn’t want it to be her kitchen, her space. She wanted to tell him unequivocally to leave. Now.
    The air thickened. The space was so small. She found herself backed against the hard edge of the counter with nowhere to move. And Truck knew it. There was this light in his eyes that made her want to chew pineboard. Truck knew exactly what he was doing and how he was doing it, and he was enjoying every moment of her vexation.

    â€œI guess I’ll see you soon,” he said, making no move to leave.
    â€œSoon...?” she echoed, her voice sounding suffocated.
    â€œThe dance.”
    â€œOh” Right, she should have her head examined for promising Jeannie she’d come. “Yes, I’ll be there.”
    â€œI know.” Gorgeous independent Carrie Spencer doing the Texas twine down the center of the Grange Hall—it was a sight he couldn’t wait to see. Not that she looked as if she was raring to go. Rather, she looked as if she expected him to kiss her. Truck relished the thought as he watched her squirm. She knew exactly what he was thinking.
    Carrie wanted everything and she wanted nothing. Especially from him. Except maybe a kiss. Maybe...a soft touch of his lips. Maybe...the feeling of his skin touching hers. Maybe...a deeper thrust, a subtle invitation—it was in her eyes, in her provocative antagonistic stance.
    Carrie was wearing the most sexless short and tank set, she smelled of a light teasing lemon scent, and she looked as desirable as hell. She looked as though she would take whatever he gave her and swear that she hated it. A man couldn’t resist challenge like that. Not with a woman whose kisses were a burning memory in his soul
    He moved in on her then, slowly, slowly, slowly, letting the tension simmer as he deliberately fit his chest against her breasts and his hips against hers.
    Carrie swallowed the sound she made at the back of her throat at the feel of his erection pressing against her. At that moment, more than life, Carrie wanted his kiss. Not because she wanted Truck; no, she wanted to prove to herself she needed no one.
    She tilted her head. He slanted his mouth over hers.
“Still time to say no,” Truck whispered, faintly amused that she was girding for battle. This was most definitely war, with the spoils nothing less than the admission that Carrie wanted him.
    He’d seen the look in her eyes. Carrie was not immune to the old feelings. “Hold still,” he murmured, cupping her chin, and ever so gently, he settled his mouth on hers. Just like that. Just the softest pressure, the longest sigh.
    Her body twinged. Carrie felt the sensation spiraling downward, helplessly, between her legs. No...yes—I don’t care ...
    He flicked her lips with his tongue, and she slowly opened her mouth to him. Slowly he entered, savoring the feel of her, the taste of her, the rhythm of her kiss. Devastating. He could barely keep himself in check. What was his problem? He wasn’t a hormonally hysterical teenager