“I thought we were going to fuck.”
His lips twitch. “Maybe I need a little romance, cookie.”
Dammit.
Why does he have to be funny?
And nice. And have the ability to save the day by turning off the water and getting management to immediately bring in the abatement crew.
I can’t think about that.
Anyof it.
So, I reach for my hoodie, my tank, and I yank them up and over my head.
Leaving me in just my underwear.
His big body jerks, and heat blooms in my belly. Because his eyes…holy hell, they’re blazing as they drag along my front, up, up,upto meet mine. Where theyburnwith need. For me. “Gorgeous,” he murmurs, that hand settling on my side again.
I jump, arching into his touch, lips parting on a sigh when his slightly roughened fingertips trace lightly up my torso, pausing just beneath my breasts.
They ache for him, my nipples hardened buds that call for his fingers and mouth, his lips and tongue and teeth.
But he doesn’t give that to me.
Not yet.
Instead, it’s just lazy patterns, light touches, delicate strokes.
“In a hurry, cookie?” he teases when my hips buck, seeking purchase.
“Yes,” I snap. “For an orgasm. Think you can manage that?”
His hand flattens just beneath one breast, his mouth hitches up at one corner. “And to think,” he drawls, “she hasn’t even kissed me yet.”
“If you weren’t so handsome, I’d slap that smug look off your face.”
He just grins, that smug smile growing. “If you did, then you wouldn’t getthis.” He settles his pelvis against mine and I gasp as the hard edge of his erection presses against me, hips bucking, neck arching, lips parting?—
Something he takes advantage of.
He drops his mouth to mine.
Now I’m not gasping. I’m moaning.
Because the man cankiss.
He gives no quarter, no mercy, just settles his mouth on mine and kisses me like I’m his last breath. His tongue delves deep, tangling with mine, lips working. His hand dives into my hair holding me in place while he plunders, his hips grinding against mine, his big body pressing me into the couch.
That’s good but?—
I hook a leg around his waist and we both groan.
Because, yeah, that’s better.
“Christ, gorgeous,” he mutters against my mouth. “You reallyarein a hurry, aren’t you?”
“I need a non-self-induced orgasm.” I hook my other leg around his hip, groan again as that becomes even better. “Like six months ago.”
