Fire & Dark (The Night Horde SoCal Book 3) by Susan Fanetti Page A

her hips. “You really just go for what you want, don’t you?”
     
    “Flirting is a waste of valuable time.”
     
    “I don’t know. I like to flirt. It’s part of it, like verbal foreplay. If I can get a girl wet with just my voice, that’s hot for both of us.”
     
    “I’m already wet. And I can tell your motor’s revving.” She rocked her hips over his erection to prove her point.
     
    He chuckled and fed one hand into her hair, holding her head. “Jesus, Pilar. Slow down. It’s not that late.”
     
    She didn’t want to slow down. She didn’t want to flirt. She wanted to fuck. And she had the answer to her earlier internal question. As much as she liked the sound of her given name in his gruff voice, it was safer to keep Pilar away. “Most people call me by my last name: Cordero.”
     
    “Is that what you want me to call you?”
     
    “Yeah.”
     
    With his hand in her hair, he brought her close while his other hand slid up under her shirt. His callused fingers played over her skin. “Well, Cordero. You got a bed in this place? I want to get naked this time.” Without waiting for an answer, he kissed her.
     
    He had a great mouth and a fantastic tongue, and the feel of his beard against her skin made her moan. As their tongues slid together and his hands moved up her back, under her shirt, she rocked on him, dragging the ridge of his hard cock over her core. Fuck, she was hot for this guy. Too hot for him. Things were getting complicated, in her head, if nowhere else.
     
    But she couldn’t bring herself to care. She wanted him to stay, at least for a little while.
     
    She lifted his t-shirt and scratched her nails over his chiseled belly until he groaned and tore his mouth away from hers. “Bed, baby. I want to strip you naked and fuck you in your bed.”
     
    He didn’t wait for her to respond. He just grabbed her hips and stood up, taking her with him. “Point me in the right direction.”
     
    Not liking to be carried, she squirmed, kicking her legs free of his hold and landing on the ground where she belonged.
     
    He lifted a dark eyebrow at her. “Most girls like that.”
     
    “This woman doesn’t.”
     
    “Fuck, Cordero. You’re wearing me out while my fly’s still zipped.” He slapped her ass—that, she liked. “Fine, then. Lead me in the right direction.”
     
    Grinning, she grabbed his big hand and led him to her bedroom.
     
    Once there, she turned and grabbed at his t-shirt, pulling him close. He reached back to pull it over his head from behind, and once he was free of it, he bent down to kiss her again. He took her mouth firmly, and she pushed him away and then came back, taking the control for herself. In that way of give and take—or, really, take and take—they tore their own and each other’s clothes off, casting pieces aside carelessly.
     
    When they were standing naked before each other, Pilar put her hands on his chest, partly to hold him off for a second, and partly just to have her hands on him. He was her perfect type, and she ran her hands over his chest, his shoulders, his arms, his belly, loving the feel of hair and muscle smoothing past her palms.
     
    She skimmed over his hips, his thick, muscular thighs, the glorious rod between them. ¡Madre de Dios!
     
    He stood and let her touch all she wanted, a small, enigmatic smirk crinkling the corners of his eyes.
     
    Her hands dropped down his arms, and she focused on that forearm tattoo, the bracer. Smoothing her thumb over the entwined Celtic knots, she asked, “Is this a warrior thing?”
     
    He shrugged and turned his arm in her hold. “Covers an old tat. It was big, so the coverage needed to be bigger. But yeah, I’m the club SAA. You know what that is?”
     
    She did. There was a patch on his kutte that said as much. And that was hot, too—she understood the Protector vibe he had going. “Sergeant at Arms. Club badass, basically.”
     
    He laughed. “Close enough.”
     
    “Are you