Hard Drivin Man by Cerise DeLand Page A

through the doorway right into his massive arms. “God, it is good to see you.”
    She caught her hat as he lifted her and squeezed the stuffing out of her. Then he planted his warm lips on her forehead, and she loved the heat of his body and the brotherly affection of his words. Just as I did after his oldest brother Sam died. Then Clint passed away—andTaylor, too. All of those deaths had been awful, unexpected sorrows, soothed by Trey’s friendship. Truth be told, while the memory of Trey’s mighty embrace had pierced her lonely
    nights far too often since Clint’s death three years ago, none of them matched this one for delicious decadence.
    Dream on, Jess. The man has no designs on his widowed sister-in-law.
    He peered down at her, but his hands held her fast, splayed over her back. Their lower bodies were pressed together by his tight hold on her and the desire that had filled her throat, now travelled south to her moist folds and north to her cool brain. “Jess, babe, you look hot.”
    “You can’t imagine!” she jested and put a hand to his chest to strain backward. “The weatherman said it’s going to be one-hundred-and-two out there today!”
    He hugged her close again, chuckling so deeply she felt the reverberations in her breasts and her belly—and her pussy.
    She pushed away and thought she caught a flicker of regret in his gaze. “Thanks for seeing me alone.” Though God knows, looking at you close up, I should get my business done andget out of here. Fast. “Your welcome home party had half the county!”
    “Aunt Marie!” He shook his head. “You know how she is, wanting everyone to have an excuse to eat and dance. Although I have to tell you, I was disappointed you left before you and I could dance.”
    “I had to go.” Before I scratched out Betsy Lou Morgan’s eyes for drooling all over you. “I needed to be up early for the well-drillers,” she lied with a bit of bravado. “Besides, you didn’t lack for dance partners.”
    The ghost of mischief flickered in his dark eyes. “None as good as you, babe.”
    “More your age, though, buddy!” Grinning up at him, Jess could now do what she’d yearned to do since Trey had come home two weeks ago on leave. She could admire how his features had matured these past few years. If the Army made men out of boys, then this man’s Army had taken a reedy youth of twenty-one and made him into a thirty–one–year–
    old mountain of male perfection. His jaw was more square, his cheekbones more harshly hollow. His eyes, so fathomlessly black, seemed sharper and yet more lambent contrasted with the rich bronze tan he had acquired from repeated deployments in Iraq and Afghanistan. If he also had lines around his eyes, at least his added gravitas to his thirty-one years. And as if he needed more appeal, more machismo, his huge body had bulked up to a pervasive power that she could still feel beneath her fingertips.
    Before she lost her cool and felt him up right there in the hall, she declared, “I want to talk.”
    “So you said on the phone. Come on in.” He closed the door and indicated they should go into the family room.
    She walked in and realised he hadn’t changed a thing. The ten-point white tail deer still stared at anyone entering with bulging crossed eyes. The bison head still pointed towards the fully stuffed carcass of a smiling bobcat. And the two wild turkeys on the sideboard still stuck their necks out, appearing to be arguing with each other.
    “You aren’t going to get rid of these, are you?” she asked, shaking her head at the menagerie that never had ceased to make her smile.
    “Nope. My dad loved their expressions. Thought they said all there was to say about how ridiculous it is to mount your prey—and I agree. If I kill something, I’m doing it to destroy it—or eat it. Period. If I’m mounting something, I’m doing it for quite a different reason.”
    She raised her brows, playfully chastising him for the sexual