“Um, yeah.”
She tilts her head. “You do know I’m not wearing sexy lingerie under here. There’s no red lace thong or Victoria’s Secret bra. It’s shapewear meant to smooth out my lumps and bumps so I don’t look like I have more rolls than a bakery. It’s about structure and support, not being sexy.”
I know what she’s getting at, and I could not care less. I’m not even going to acknowledge such a baseless concern. I take a step toward her. “I don’t care. If I have my way, in about thirty seconds, it’s all going to end up in a pile on the floor anyway, and you’re going to be naked and beautiful stretched out on that bed, with me between your legs.”
Apparently, sweet Hannah LaRosa likes a little dirty talk, because that’s all it takes. Her mouth is on mine, her tongue eagerly moving. We’re a tangle of hands and tongues, mouths and bodies. There’s an absolute frenzy as clothes go flying.
Okay, that shapewear thingy is a little harder to remove than I’d anticipated, and I wrench my right shoulder trying to yank it down. I can ignore the pain slicing through my arm though, because once it’s down, I’m blessed with a view of the most incredible full breasts.
My God, Hannah is stunning.
“You still good?” I ask before going any further. Her breathless “yes” is like scoring a game-winning goal.
Though I may have the endurance of an elite athlete, I have no ability to last long with Hannah. It’s all force and frenzy, motion and moaning. My body on hers. Her body on mine. Sliding inside her, feeling like I’m home.
It’s perfect.
She’s perfect.
Chapter 22: Hannah
Well, that was unexpected.” It’s true. Never in a million years did I think I’d end up back in bed with Callaghan Entay.
Like, never.
I’m not saying I didn’t want it, because I can barely remember a time in my life when Ididn’twant him. I simply didn’t think it would ever happen again.
And I know I should have taken the offer for a separate hotel room because we all know no good can come from this. There is no reality in which Callaghan and I can ever be anything more than a fling. However, I let the champagne do the decision-making, and it wanted to get laid.
Not that the champagne had to try that hard to plead its case. I was a goner from the minute he whispered “please” into my ear. And then when he kissed me, it was all over. I had to be with him, at least one more time.
No matter how stupid a decision it was.
I, however, will not be admitting that to Callaghan. His ego doesn’t need the help. And he doesn’t need to know that I’d like this to be more than a fling; that what I feel for him is more than a casual hookup.
I can keep it light and breezy.
