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Iron & Ink
-- EXCERPT: Ash The stock room wasn’t refrigerated, but I still pressed my forehead against some beer bottles for relief. The glass was marginally cool, and I would take anything to help diminish the flames culminating south of my belly button. Suddenly, I felt a presence behind me and spun around, pulse skittering out of control. Rome’s body was inches from mine, close enough for his heat to permeate the space between us and turn my flesh feverish. His deep grumble rolled over my skin. “Need a hand?” Yes, but not with the beer. “I, um, think I’ve got it. Not my first time.” His eyes rolled closed, a soft groan escaping his mouth. “I meant with the restocking—” “Stop talking, Ash.” I did. And waited to see what he would do. Because in that exact moment, I realized I would let him. Whatever he wanted. Vibrations were pulsing off of him, almost like he was fighting his own restraint. He inched forward slightly, bringing our chests within grazing distance. And wow. Rome was huge. Much taller than my willowy five-foot-seven frame and nothing but rock hard muscle wrapped around a broad, warrior-like frame. I wanted to shove the leather jacket from his shoulders and rip that gray t-shirt off so I could see just how much of his body those wicked tattoos covered. My breath hitched when he raised his arms. Instead of touching me with them, he pressed his hands against the shelf of beer cases at my back. He caged me between those muscular arms, making it clear I wasn’t going anywhere until he was ready to let me go. His breathing was labored, same as mine. I wondered if his heartrate was as out of control as mine too. “I don’t usually say much.” I nodded in understanding. I wasn’t asking him to be chatty. Or to be anything other than what he really was. “But I’m finding myself wanting to say a whole damn lot around you.” “Like what?” I whispered. He tilted his head, running his nose from my temple down to my jaw. “Like telling you about some of the things I want to do to you.” “Such as?” I was breathless. It was like he was relieved I’d asked. “These jeans you wear sit really low, Ash. Too fucking low.” The scruff of his beard brushed my cheek, though it wasn’t coarse and scratchy. “It makes me think there’s no room in there for your panties. I want to push them down even lower, just to check.” Beer bottles clinked as my head fell back, leaving my neck exposed. “How’d you know?” “How did I know what?” “That I’m not wearing any?” “Goddammit, woman.” My hips were squeezed, moved, and situated in between his. My thighs cradled the thick ridge in his jeans that rubbed against my sex so emphatically, I was already throbbing down there. Dripping down there. He was grinding it against me in slow, small thrusts that felt more like a rough petting. I’d never been so singularly hot for someone in my life. “What else do you want to do?” “You just short-circuited my brain,” he growled. “And you expect me to still have the ability to think?” He claimed he didn’t talk much, but he was really good at it. “Power through, tough guy.” Careful. You get too close to fire and you’re going to get burned… 
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