Sugar on Top (Sugar, Georgia Book 2) Read online

  He could feel her pulse beneath his mouth, so he sucked gently on the spot, loving it when she released a little whimper. Then her cone hit the ground, her fingers wove themselves through his hair, and it was game on.

  Her hands were everywhere, as though she’d been fantasizing about touching him as much as he had her. And he’d fantasized all right. He hadn’t had a decent night’s sleep since he saw her in those ducky galoshes.

  “So, what do you think?” she asked, gripping his head and planting one hell of a kiss on him.

  That he’d found his new favorite flavor.

  “Definitely felt the heat that time,” he murmured against her mouth. “But there is still something to be said about vanilla.”

  And there was something to be said about this woman. Glory was sexy and feminine and so damn beautiful it hurt to look at her. But it was this new side, the vulnerable one she kept hidden from the world, that reached out and pulled him in. All the way in.

  “Nothing about the two of you looks very vanilla, if you ask me,” Brett said from behind.

  “No one asked you,” Cal mumbled, not interested in prying himself away from Glory or her sexy mouth.

  “Brett,” Glory said, stepping back and smoothing down her hair, although it didn’t help. Not one bit. Her ponytail was coming undone; little wisps of hair blew in the wind and clung to her lips. She looked thoroughly kissed. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, just out for a stroll,” he said and smiled. Cal wanted to punch him. “You guys?”

  “The same,” she said while unzipping Cal’s jacket. “Cal was just walking me to my car, and look, we’re here. All together.”

  She handed Cal his jacket all businesslike and looked as if she was going to bolt, only he saw her take a calming breath and force her body to stay put. Long enough to say, “Thank you. For everything. I had a great time.” Then she gave him a sweet smile, and before he could tell her that he didn’t want her to go, that he didn’t want their date to end, she was dashing toward her car.

  Her door slammed shut, the engine started with a crank, and she tore out of the parking lot like her ass was on fire.

  “So you want to explain to me how I ended up fending off arthritic advances for the past two hours while you were out here sticking your tongue down my best friend’s throat?” Brett asked, raising his arm and giving a prissy little wiggle of the fingers at her taillights.

  “You want to tell me why I have a dozen catfish in my garage freezer when Joie thinks fishing season is over?”

  Brett stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels.

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “Good catching up.” Brett clapped Cal on the back and headed toward the front parking lot, adding an oh-so-funny “Better eat up, bro, you’re dripping vanilla.”

  Cal looked down at his cone—which he was somehow still holding—and tossed it in the trash. He told himself it was because he wasn’t hungry, not because he wasn’t sure he was a vanilla kind of guy anymore.

  Chapter 15

  An hour later, ceiling fan set to hurricane, Glory was sprawled out on the couch in her favorite shortie pajamas with her textbook. She’d picked up Road Kill, showered, organized her class notes, and made a comprehensive flash card glossary of terms for Monday’s final—her fingertips had the ink stains to prove it.

  With Road Kill sitting next to her, his little armadillo hooves determined to turn her couch cushion into a cozy den, she began transferring the chapters she’d outlined earlier in the week to her master study guide. Anything to take her mind off the fact that she’d made out with Cal in public.

  Twice.

  Thank God Brett had interrupted when he had. She didn’t want to think about what they’d be doing right know if he hadn’t. Her tummy, along with other, more interesting, parts, quivered at the possibilities.

  When it came to kissing, the man was a miracle worker. And his hands were sheer magic. Two skillfully clever tools with orgasm-inducing powers that had her picking up her cell and finding his number, ready to ask him just what kind of benefits came with being his friend.

  “It’s happened,” she said to Road Kill. “My sex drought has officially made me crazy.”

  Road Kill gave a disapproving grunt, then went back to his burrowing.

  She put down the phone and closed her eyes. “You’re right, I need to stay strong.”

  After Leon, she had promised herself that she wouldn’t have sex with someone who she couldn’t see forever with. Which meant that she hadn’t had a man-made orgasm in over two years.

  She was overdue, the only explanation she could come up with for her silly five-date fib. It didn’t take five dates to get her naked; it took a serious commitment. But she was tempted to bend the rules. Why? Because, Glory Gloria Mann, the town’s perceived wild child, was man-starved and the only person who could feed her craving wasn’t applying for a long-term position.

  Which meant that first thing tomorrow, she was going to explain to Cal just how serious she was about that five-date rule. Jacket or not, she wasn’t going to give in that easy.

  Road Kill stopped mid-dig, his ears rotating like two little satellites until they zeroed in on the front door. His tail twitched and he let out a grunt-pant combo that didn’t sound the least bit intimidating. A knock sounded at the door, and with an ear-piercing screech, he leapt off the couch and hustled his little armored butt down the hall and into the bedroom, his claws scuffing her hardwood floors.

  Glory walked to the door and peeked out the peephole, doing some panting of her own when she recognized Cal’s sexy blue eyes peeking back.

  She knew the minute he realized she was on the other side of the door because he smiled and took a step back, as though waiting for her to just open up her door and welcome him inside.

  “I know that you know it’s me, Boots, so open up.”

  Oh, she knew it was him all right. Her nipples told her that the second he’d knocked. Plus she could smell the testosterone through the door, and his soap, which from the looks of it he’d showered, too. Although, she thought bitterly, he’d put on a fresh pair of jeans and an untucked gray button-up, not a pair of shorts with dancing pigs on them and a tank that said RESIDENT BED HOG across the chest.

  “Or I can go get my tools from the truck—your call.”

  And since the thought of Cal with tools made her hot, she opened the door—wide enough to see his face.

  “What do you want?” she asked, more than aware that she hadn’t put her bra back on after her shower.

  “Our date wasn’t over.”

  Time to be firm. “I had a fun time, I’d love to do it again, but like I already told you, panties are a strict date five topic.”

  “You said date four if they’re special.”

  She had said that, damn it.

  He pushed the door open a tad and his eyes dropped to her pajamas. He grinned. “And, Boots, those shorts don’t leave much room for imagination.” He pushed the door open wider and leaned in. “Or panties.”

  He was right. She was commando under there. Not that she’d confirm his suspicions or even had time to. Before she knew what was happening, Cal took her hand in his and led her down the stairs toward his truck—and the already opened passenger door.

  She stopped at the bottom step. “I’m not wearing shoes and I’m in my pajamas.”

  “Which answers the question of what you sleep in. Although, I have to admit, I took you for more of an in-the-buff girl.” She felt her cheeks heat but played it cool. “Ah, good to know.”

  Okay, maybe not so cool.

  Cal slipped his jacket over her shoulders, then turned around to offer her his back. “Pajama issue solved. Now climb on.”

  Knowing that he wasn’t going to let her be until she did as he asked, at least that was the lie she told herself, she wrapped her arms around his neck and legs around his middle—which only managed to smash her front deliciously against his broad, muscula
r back.

  He walked her over to his truck, sat her on the seat, and shut her door, not saying a word until he was in the driver’s seat with his door shut.

  He didn’t start the engine, didn’t explain what he was doing, just turned to her and smiled. “I had a great time tonight, which after my day seemed impossible. But you made it fun, made it easy to talk about Payton, and just…easy. With you, tonight, it all seemed so easy, so thank you.”

  And wasn’t that the most romantic thing anyone had ever said to her. “I had a great time, too.”

  “Good.” His smile was back and he got out of the truck, walked around, and opened her door.

  Glory rolled her eyes, but inside she was melting. “What are you doing?”

  “Walking my date to her doorstep.” He looked at her bare feet and waggled a brow. “Or carrying.”

  “That’s okay, I can walk.” But one hand was already around her back, the other firmly planted on her butt, and he was scooping her out of the truck, not putting her down until he was up the stairs and at her door.

  Hands shoved in his pockets, he leaned against the rail. She opened her mouth to speak when he said, “Hang on.” He reached out and closed her front door. “There. Now, you were saying.”

  “Just, thank you,” she whispered and neither of them moved, neither of them spoke. It was as though time hung, and in that one moment nothing else mattered. Only the two of them and this insane connection.

  His eyes dropped and he cleared his throat. That’s when she realized he was waiting for his jacket.

  “Oh, right. Sorry.” She started to take it off when he gripped the collar and tugged her to him.

  “I don’t care about the jacket, I’ll get it next time.”

  Her knees wobbled at the idea that he wanted a next time.

  Oh my God, Charlotte was right, she had it bad. Glory was a certified McGraw addict; she had every last symptom, even down to wanting their next time to be now.

  Cal must have been suffering from the same affliction, because he tilted his head and delivered a gentle kiss that seemed to last for hours. Languid and soft and with deliberate control, the man kissed her as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. This wasn’t a race or a sprint to the bed; to him, kissing was his way of connecting, sharing.

  By the time they came up for air, Glory’s bones had turned to mush and her entire world had shifted because Cal wasn’t just special, he was perfect.

  Then he did the one thing that could have made her fall, had her opening herself up to all the what-ifs and going all in. Cal gave her one last kiss on the cheek and made his way down the stairs, giving her what she wanted, time to prove he was serious, that she was worth waiting for, worth fighting for.

  Only every step he took caused her chest to coil tighter and tighter until it hurt to breathe.

  One date. A hundred. It didn’t matter. This was Cal. He was one of the good ones. He’d come all this way, in the middle of the night, to escort her to the door, and there she was, watching him walk away, wondering if she’d get another chance.

  The least she could do was invite him inside and offer him a cold beverage.

  He was rounding the truck when her feet finally got the message from her brain, and she took off down the steps, not stopping until she was standing in front of him. “Don’t go.”

  Well hell, it wasn’t as though Cal wanted to go home to an empty house and even emptier bed, but he was trying to do the right thing here. Not that she was making it easy.

  Glory was looking at him like he was a triple scoop of Firecracker ice cream and she wanted to lick him from head to toe, so his brain was having a hard time figuring out if this was some kind of cruel test—which he hoped to God it wasn’t—or if he’d just become the luckiest SOB ever to walk the earth.

  The still night air hung thick, nothing between them but moonlight, a few fireflies, and then she met his gaze and thinking became imperative. Beneath the storm of need was a hint of something raw that had him pausing.

  It was no secret that Glory’s life had been a revolving door of disappointment, and he refused to be another guy who let her down. Blowing this wasn’t an option—too bad neither was walking away.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, giving her a chance to back out and strong in his conviction that if she did, he wouldn’t cry. Much.

  But to his relief she fisted her hands in his hair, dragged his face to hers, and—hallelujah, his prayers were answered—planted one on him.

  Cal, a grand master of nonverbal communication, took her tongue in his mouth as an affirmative, her hands smoothing down his chest and, bingo, right over the front of his pants as a giant green light that she was sure.

  Even better, that it was on.

  Always a team player, he did his part, molding her hips with his hands, backing her up, and caging her between his body and the grill of his truck, making sure she felt his green light, front and center.

  The heat radiating off his engine was almost as intense as the big freaking hot ball of fire that raged between them. Part pent-up tension and part bone-deep lust made for a whole hell of a lot of chemistry.

  And since he was more than convinced that she was sure, he scooped her up, he couldn’t help it, and sat her amazing ass right there, on the hood of his truck.

  Pressing himself between her legs, he trailed little kisses down her throat to the creamy cleavage he’d been dreaming about. She smelled good. Insanely good. Like turned-on woman and red hots.

  She felt even better. Soft and curvy and—holy shit, her hands were on the move again, plucking one button at a time until his shirt was open and her talented fingers were exploring every inch she’d uncovered…and more.

  He knew he should carry her inside, make love to her in that soft bed of hers, but he wanted a few more moments under the stars. With her hands on him just like this.

  She must have felt the same because she pulled back enough to look down at him and, without a word, lifted her arms in invitation.

  Cal RSVPed to that party in no time flat, easing his thumbs under the hem of her tank top and slowly pushing it up. The higher he tugged, the harder he became, until his thumbs brushed the undersides of her breasts, and he stopped.

  “Is this one of the hundred and forty minutes of your day when you’re thinking about what color my lace is?” she asked, her eyes dilated and a little dazed. “Because I promise you, one more inch and you’ll know.”

  “But then the anticipation of wondering will be over.”

  “It will, won’t it?” She laughed, and before he could blink, she pulled it up and over her head, tossing it on his windshield, and Cal’s breath lodged itself in his throat. Because no amount of wondering or fantasizing could have prepared him for what was beneath.

  Tiny waist, flat stomach, incredible breasts right there for his viewing pleasure. Glory was perfectly naked under that top. It was a no-lace-required kind of look that officially blew his mind.

  “Are you still wondering?” she whispered when he just kept staring.

  “Just savoring, give me a minute.”

  He wanted to savor her all night. He started by letting his eyes roam over her, then his hands, exploring every single inch of silky skin.

  He got to her waist and ran his palms over the band of her Bed Hog shorts and around to cup her ass. She was either completely commando under there or wearing a G-string. Both scenarios had him reeling.

  “It’s a matching set,” she said, and he wanted to weep with joy.

  “I had a feeling.”

  She leaned back on her hands, giving him a view that he’d remember until the day he died. “Isn’t the real thing better than wondering?”

  “You tell me.” He jerked her forward, until her ass teetered on the edge of the hood and those perfect tens were eye level, and then he pulled her into his mouth, teasing, nibbling, and gently biting her nipple.

  Her breath caught so he did it again.

  “So much better.” She l
et loose this sexy little moan, her head falling back, giving him a full-access pass to explore, which he took.

  His mouth moved down her breasts, along her rib cage, until he placed an openmouthed kiss on the inside of her right thigh, then the left, and then because she seemed to like that so much, he pressed her legs open even farther and placed one right in the middle of her cotton shorts.

  “But not as much heat as I’d hoped,” she challenged.

  Challenge accepted. She wanted heat; he’d give her heat.

  “You might want to hold on to something,” he said right before he gave her so much heat, her body melted on the hood of his truck. He used his tongue, his teeth, teasing and nipping until her breathing was coming out in short gasps and her body was so primed it was humming.

  Pressing her legs as far apart as he could, he pulled the shorts to the side and slid one finger in, meeting sweet moisture. Her whole body tensed, so he slid in another, loving how she fisted her hands in his hair and held him there, as if he didn’t already know what she wanted.

  He knew all right, and he was going to give it to her.

  Slowly, he started pumping and her hips pressed forward to deepen the friction. The way she closed around his fingers when he sank even deeper was enough to drive a man insane.

  “Hot enough?” he rasped.

  “Hotter,” she screamed out as he curled his fingers, hitting the jackpot. He did it again and again until the heat rose past surface-of-the-sun and rounded un-fucking-believable.

  He had her shuddering in one swipe and with a last well-placed nibble to her swollen, wet flesh, she exploded and, lucky guy that he was, melted into him, sliding down his body until her feet were on the bumper and his hands were under her ass, doing some sliding of their own.

  “Lift up,” he said, those shorts of hers sliding right down her legs, joining her top on the windshield. His shirt quickly followed, and while she was vibrating with aftershocks, he unzipped and was covered, wrapping her legs around his waist and sliding home in one desperate stroke.