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Nuts (Hudson Valley #1) Page 58
Author: Alice Clayton

“Did you know your eyes change color?” he murmured, his gaze heated as looked at me closely, so closely.

“Hmm?” I tried hard to keep my eyes open, when all I wanted to do was close them and relish these feelings.

“They change. When you’re excited.” His fingers slipped inside my panties. My back arched involuntarily, and I held so very tight to the edge.

“I know they change . . . color when I’m . . . frustrated . . . fuck, that feels good.”

“They’re usually this light hazel color, maybe a little blue, maybe a little brown, but when they go green . . . mmm.” He sped up his fingers. Which sped up my breathing. He leaned closer, pressing his lips to my neck, kissing a path upwards to just below my ear, where he whispered, “Did you know they go full green? Right before you come?”

I groaned. This man knew me; knew me so well. He stood back a bit, studying me.

“Look at that, they’re turning even more green by the second.”

All I could do was moan at the onslaught of sensations breaking across my body. He watched my eyes, his fingers slipping across my skin as I began to come apart on his hand. But just before I did, he hauled me against his chest, getting him just as wet as me. As he backed through the kitchen and out the back door, my hands immediately dug into his hair, and I kissed him wild. My legs went to wrap around him, but before I could get purchase he set me on my feet in front of the rain barrel and spun me like a top.

“This is just too good an idea to pass up.” He dragged my shorts and panties down my wet legs; seconds later, I heard his zipper. Mmm. “Grab the other side there, Sugar Snap.”

I leaned across, feeling the night air on my bare backside. “Like this?” I asked, looking back over my shoulder, arching my back. What I saw was the stuff of legend. Leo, face buried inside his vintage Screaming Trees tee as he pulled it off. Torso, long and lean and strong as he tossed away the shirt, then popped open the button on his jeans. Which were swiftly pushed down. I shivered as I watched him tear open the condom wrapper with his teeth, then watched his hand disappear inside his jeans. The butterflies in my tummy flew in a thousand directions at once as I saw him holding himself in his hands, rolling the condom down his thick length. Now, this was parade worthy.

His right hand holding himself at the base, his left hand slipped down my spine, splaying wide on the small of my back and pushing me further across the barrel. “Spread your legs a bit further, Rox—just like that,” he murmured, his voice molasses thick. What is it about being told what to do while naked? It thrilled me to no end.

I held my breath as he pushed into me. He let his breath out while he pushed into me. In one long . . . slow . . . exhale. When he was buried deep inside, he said my name. His hands ran up and down my back, not moving inside me yet, just holding so very still, and yet, his hands. Soothing. Stroking. His said my name over and over again, in this gorgeous, raspy whisper that was as sexy as it was intimate. I felt, in a word, worshipped.

Then one hand closed around my shoulder. The other gripped my hip, then he thrust. It felt delicious. “God, I wish you could see how you look right now,” he said, his words pouring down on me. I rolled my back like a cat, pushing back against him. I peeked back over my shoulder once more, turned on even more by the intensity on his face, how he bit down on his lower lip as he thrust, the cords on his neck tightening as he moved my body with his own.

“Tell me.” My breath caught in my throat as he pulled me powerfully back against him.

The corner of his mouth tipped up in a sweet grin. “Your skin is glowing, and it’s not just the moonlight.”

“Yeah?”

“Every time I push into you, you tip your hips back, and Christ, I can feel you all around me.”

“Mmm-hmm.” I sighed, squeezing him tightly. I got a groan in response.

“And fuck, your ass looks fantastic like this.” He gave me a light swat on the rear, and I cried out. Not just in surprise. “Duly noted,” he murmured, slipping his hand up my spine to bury it in my hair, twisting a handful around. Tugging slightly, my neck arched, my back arched, and I was perched right on the edge, literally and orgasmically, especially as his other hand slid underneath me, just above where we were connected.

“I wonder what color your eyes are now,” he groaned, his own hips speeding up, punishing, hungry, desperate. Strung out and fevered, I could feel the low ball of tension pulsing through my body, lights flashing before my eyes, his moans thick behind me. I was going full green, coming apart under the night sky, with Leo hard and slick inside me.

Happy Birthday, America.

“Hey, what’s that?” Leo asked.

“That’s my boob.”

“I’m aware of that,” he said, leaning down to drop a sweet kiss on my breast. “But what’s that? The big thing out in the bushes?”

“Clarify, please—or I’m running into the house and leaving you to deal with whatever big scary thing is in the bushes.”

“That,” he said, pointing toward the—

“Oh, that’s the old Airstream” I said, relaxing back into his arms. Which were suddenly no longer there.

“One of those old trailers?” He was already on his feet, leaving my breast unattended. Grumbling as I buttoned my shirt, I followed him across the yard to where he stood. “Wow, look at that! How long has this been out here?”

“Hard to say. When was Nixon in office?” I replied.

He turned from where he’d been poking around the underbrush. “You’re kidding.”

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Alice Clayton's Novels
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