Smex Scene Sunday

I love the Winstons Brothers. This series loosely connects with Reid’s Knitting in the City series and is just as funny and sexy. In here, we meet Beau Winston, Duane’s twin and the nicest Winston brother. A mechanic at the family body shop, the new mechanic hired to replace Duane is stunningly beautiful, extremely talented, and a woman.

Shelley Sullivan is the new mechanic and sister of Quinn Sullivan from Neanderthal Seeks Human. Shelley is stunning but extremely OCD and socially stunted. She has a dirty parrot, no filter and chases everyone away.

The following scene takes place after Shelley’s fears got the best of her and stood Beau up.

Damn this woman. Damn her for making me weak. Damn her for being able to wreck me.

“I’m so sorry,” she said. “I will make it up to you.”

The exuberance of her apology and fervor of her relief did wonders to settle my nettle. Also, the feel of her body beneath my hands helped a lot, too.

’Cause I’m a guy.

And a willing woman’s body is the universal antidote for being butt-hurt.

“You don’t need to make it up to me. Don’t forget I’m in a room again and we’ll call it even.”

“I definitely won’t. I’ll never forget. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop apologizing, Shell.” I caught her mouth as it brushed over mine, turning and easing her against the door so I could kiss her good and proper. But good and proper soon became naughty and dirty, and I grew dizzy with the feel of her. One minute she was frantically covering my face with kisses, and the next she was arching against me, her fingers working to unzip my coveralls while I’d already half unzipped hers.

Essential madness, that’s what it was.

My hands moved around to her back then lower, cupping and kneading her backside. Holy Moses, she had a great ass. Just . . . fucking great. I wanted to tell her how great but instead all I could manage was a growl.

I trusted the growl communicated my point.

Her hands slipped under my T-shirt, lifting then yanking it over my head. She shuddered as her fingers danced along my stomach and ribs, her mouth ravenous beneath mine. Shelly bit my lip, sucking it into her mouth and I groaned, fire in my veins, needing to touch her everywhere.

Grabbing one of my wrists, she redirected my hand to her breast, pressing herself into my palm. Her breath hitched as I bent, giving her nipple the same treatment she’d given my lip, her nails digging into the back of my head, anchoring me to her.

“Oh God, Beau . . .”

Curious and turned on, I skimmed my fingers down her long torso, enjoying the silk of her skin, and into her panties—which I noted were also lacey. I parted her. Pulling down her bra straps, I recaptured the tip of her breast, swirling my tongue around the peak as I invaded her body with my finger. I could have told her how wet she was, how hot and slick and intoxicating she felt. Instead, I growled again. And again, it was just as effective as words.

She gave me an answering moan, tilting her hips, her nails now scratching my back and sides.

“Please, Beau,” she panted. “Please. Please.”

I’ve always been a sucker for a woman asking nicely, and her plea was so sweet, ripe with raw vulnerability. I wanted to taste it, but I also wanted to tease, so I trailed wet kisses over her breast to her neck, sliding my lips and teeth along her jaw. I nipped at her bottom lip while I stroked her hotter.

Shelly chased my mouth. I lifted my chin, not giving her what she wanted while giving her exactly what she needed. I added a second finger to my invasion and the skill of my thumb. She whimpered, her head falling back, her nails scoring my skin where her fingers dug into my sides, her eyes at half-mast.

“Kiss me.” Shelly’s hands slid lower, into my boxers, moving with purpose. Her hands weren’t soft and small, tentative and teasing. They were strong and demanding. I was completely unprepared for how necessary her hands felt on my skin. How her touch, so uniquely her, drove me wild. A trail of searing heat, a rush and force of aching need both inebriated and sobered me, reminded me that we were still moving too fast, too soon.

Although I believed her when she’d apologized, I couldn’t count on her. Not yet. I wanted this woman. I wanted her body—desperately—but not until I had her trust and respect first.