With Just Cause by Jackie Ivie Read Free Book Online Page A

shirt was classic Western cut. Nothing
rodeo fancy, but authentic. Fashioned from heavy cotton with a
light plaid weave in a tan shade, featuring pointed yoke, and snaps
with a pearled finish. It was well made. Impossible to rip off him,
even as she thought of it. Deandra moved her hands along his chest
to his shoulders and pushed the fabric onto his upper arms. And
then she was looking over ripped abs barely hidden beneath a white
cotton, sleeveless shirt.
    Really ripped abs. Deandra’s hands moved
without orders to running along a washboard frame that trembled
beneath her explorations. Flat belly. Nice thick ridge of muscle
along his waist. She yanked the undershirt up and then pulled at
his belt buckle. The chunk of metal gave easily. Deandra held it
for a moment before pulling on the brown leather it was attached
to. His buckle wasn’t large or ornate or fancy. None of his attire
was. It spoke of workaday cowboy, not glitz and glam rodeo. He was
even wearing button-fly denims that dropped low on his hips as the
belt came free. And then he grabbed for her hands and stopped
her.
    He wasn’t just trembling. He was shaking. It
took her into cadence with it.
    “I wasn’t joking.”
    The world beneath them rocked, making her
stumble. If she hadn’t been held by his hands, she might have
dropped to her knees. Then it ceased. Everything seemed to stop.
Even time. His eyes caught hers, ensnaring her with unfathomable
depths of black atop a mirrored surface of more black. Deep. Dark.
Matte-finish black. And everything on her answered. Deandra’s lips
opened, allowing pants of breath. Her nipples tightened, going to
nubs that rubbed and annoyed against her bra lining. She flushed.
The space about her heart heated. That muscle expanded, ramping her
pulse beat higher. Her knees weakened. Her thighs twitched.
Sensations moved higher, twanging a chord deep in her apex. Her
loins began to flex and release. Moistening. Growing heavy with
longing. Craving. Desire. Absolute need.
    “Grimm...”
    The name came out as a plea. A moan. A cry. A
combination of all three. The one thing it didn’t sound like was
her.
    “You don’t understand.”
    He tensed everything about him, moving her
closer with the tightening of his arms. He’d gritted his teeth,
too, putting slicing-sharp fangs on display. She couldn’t blink.
Think. Move. He looked feral. Untamed. Wild. Primal. And wholly
male.
    And Deandra was caught.
    “I haven’t been with... a woman. Not for...
some time.”
    “Some time?” she managed to whisper.
    “Yeah. Years.”
    The instant feeling that rippled through her
veins like champagne bubbles was so close to euphoria, she felt
faint. Giddy. Overjoyed. Amazed. She cleared her throat in order to
answer.
    “Oh. Good. I really... hate asking the
awkward stuff anyway.”
    “Stuff?”
    “You know. Stuff like... rubbers. Birth
control. Other... partners.”
    He growled.
Growled.
The sound
emanated from him until bass tones filled the room, pulsating off
the walls. The real Deandra would have been annoyed. At the very
least. This Deandra was even more intrigued. Caught. She wouldn’t
have moved her eyes from him even if she’d been able to. She
narrowed the space between them, standing, not touching. Lifting
her chin. Pursing her lips. Trembling. Waiting. And then he lowered
his head to her, and matched his lips to hers.
    The moment they kissed, Deandra lost all
semblance of control. She lunged for him, gripping him to her with
her arms beneath his while her hands grabbed at chunks of fabric.
Her breasts flared with spasms of desire that spread outward from
where they’d smashed against his pecs. Something pricked her lower
lip. A slight sting happened. And then a thrill such as nothing
she’d experienced. Ever. Her body shuddered through wave after wave
of ecstasy. Molten pleasure. Incredible bliss. And she wanted
more.
    Drum-like pounding pulsed through her with a
power and volume beyond physical limitation. Throbbing