Must stick to the “just kissing” plan.
But I can’t shove it out of my head. It’s impossible. The wetness from moving my groin against his is out of this world.
He slides his hand higher, scoops his thumb under my breast, and brushes it over my nipple.
My gasp is loud. My body vibrates with yearning. His touch is electric.
Oh, God.
Am I going to have sex with him?
I can’t.
That would be, at best, unwise. At worst, stupid and disastrous.
I’ve never had sex with someone I barely know. But, oh holy hell, I want to with this particular someone. More than I’ve ever wanted to do anything. He doesn’t feel like a stranger. When he looks in my eyes and teases me, it’s like he knows me and I know him. And, good God, our mouths were clearly made for each other.
Desperate to touch what he’s pressing against me, my resolve starts to evaporate, and I find the outline of his long, thick hardness. As I press my palm against him, he squeezes my breast and groans. The touch and sound of him lights a fire in my core.
His other hand finds its way under my sweatshirt and to my other breast. Another gasp flies out of me as his thumbs sweep over both my nipples.
His dick twitches as I squeeze it through the heavy fabric. Good God, I’ve spent my whole life missing out.I might not have had sex with a vast number of men, but I know what’s in my hand feels pretty damn special. And I’m absolutely certain that the way Owen is driving me crazy is extraordinary.
I’m sure it’s not normal to feel completely at one with someone straight away, or for that someone to almost tip you over the edge with the mere brush of a thumb. What trick is the universe playing by giving me a taste of this magic with someone I’ll never see again after tomorrow?
“I don’t want you to move your hand,” he breathes, “but I do want you to take this off.”
He pushes my sweatshirt and T-shirt up to my armpits. I sit up and lift both arms in the air so he can pull them over my head.
“Much better.” His eyes lock onto my bare breasts as he sits up to meet me. He desires me. This smart, sexy, self-made man desiresme.
He eases me down onto my back and kneels over me.
“These are beautiful.” He strokes his fingers around the curves of my breasts. I close my eyes and give myself to him completely. He can do whatever he likes with them.
Turns out, what he likes is pretty damn amazing. He takes one nipple in his mouth while tweaking the other, then switches, and continues back and forth until I’m about to come from purely the nipple action.
I open my eyes and lift his head away from my breasts. “You have to stop before I pass out. Also, I shouldn’t be the only one topless.”
He smiles the sexiest of smiles as I push him back and undo the buttons of his plaid shirt. There’s something mind-blowingly hot about unbuttoning a shirt, even when it doesn’t reveal bare flesh—he has a T-shirt underneath.
I get to the last button, and he yanks it the rest of the way off, then pulls the T-shirt over his head.
“Guess you didn’t need my help.” I laugh as I stroke the outline of his pecs and trail my fingers down to his abs.
Oh, the dimple in his cheek as he smiles.
He scoops his hands under my backside, swivels us around to sit me on the edge of the sofa, and kneels on the floor between my legs.
“I can’t wait to see all of you.” His voice drips with desire, and I know he means it.
He presses his lips against mine in the deepest of kisses as he undoes my jeans and pushes his hands down the sides of my underwear.
Oh, Jesus. I’d forgotten I’m wearing the most unsexy boyshorts that were originally pink, but are now a weird shade of dirty lilac after I accidentally washed them with jeans. And I’ve not exactly been on top of the personal grooming down there since living alone. These are things I’ve always cared about until right this moment when the fierce, burning need for him to touch me is the only thing that matters.
One final tug on my pants and I’m stark naked. On the edge of my sofa. With the hot, rich, topless, stranger from California kneeling between my legs and taking me all in. This is not how I’d expected my day to end. But I can’t imagine ever wanting anything more than I want this right now.
“I need to keep telling you you’re beautiful,” he breathes, as he strokes up my inner thigh and over my center.
