“I like, uh, fun undergarments.” This was it. The end of the best make-out session I’d ever had. I wanted this so bad, and my fun undies had been a point of contention before.
Your idea of lingerie is a libido killer.Peter had been awful to me and my cat.
A brow ticked up, heavy interest infusing his brown irises. “Are all of them fun?”
“A lot. I have plain white too.” How sexy did I sound? I could embroider that for my underwear drawer.I have plain white too. Ugh.
“Every day, Miss Scarlett. Every day, I want to know what you have on underneath your clothing.” Before I could hook my hopes on thatevery day, he reached behind me. A deft snap and my bra was falling from my shoulders.
A groan eked out of him as he palmed both breasts. “Perfect,” he muttered, and I believed him.
He meant it. My pink smiley faces weren’t a turnoff, but then Tate was a level of man my ex could never attain.
Each stroke of his calloused fingertips sent ripples of pleasure over my skin. I’d never been so sensitive. And when he bent to do exactly what he’d described and tongued my nipples, a shiver racked my body.
A low chuckle reverberated through him and into me. “Knew it. You’re so damn responsive.”
Then he dropped to his knees. My breath caught. Without him blocking me, I was suddenly exposed in the privacy of my home. I stuffed my hands into his hair. “Tate?”
His fingers skated up my calves. “You with me?”
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly.
“How ’bout you focus on me and what I’m doing to you and quit worrying about the rest.” He wasn’t asking.
He didn’t even know what the rest was. I didn’t either. I had my suspicions. Past disappointments. Past insults. Past shitty men.
So far, Tate hadn’t ticked any of those boxes. He’d been kind and helpful. Charming and sensual. Now he was intoxicating and passionate. I wasn’t used to those last two centered on me. But Tate was all of them, and he directed them at me.
Me.
The back of my head thunked the wall. “Okay.”
I closed my eyes, let my boobs hang out, and enjoyed the way he swept the fabric of my skirt up.
“I’m dying to know if you wore a matching set.”
I opened my eyes and met his gaze, acutely grateful I paired my fun undergarments together. He slipped his hands higher under my skirt. The warm tips hit the hem of my underwear and I trembled. Residual anxiety spread through me, and I fought not to push him away.
He disappeared under the colorful drape of my skirt. A long growl had me clutching the wall behind me.
“I’m going to get an erection the next time I see a pink smiley face.” He tugged my underwear down, and his hot breath wafted over my feverish skin.
The panties fell to the floor, and he carefully lifted my foot to free them and toss them in the direction of my bra and shirt. Then his hands were back at my inner thighs, coaxing them apart.
“Let me in, Scarlett. I need to see how wet you are for me.”
I had to squeeze my eyelids closed again. He was too much. This shouldn’t be out of my comfort zone, but a rejection from Tate carried more significance, and I hadn’t known him as long as the others I’d been with.
I bit my lip before I explained that I didn’t keep up on personal landscaping. I was single. I’d had zero dating prospects before Summer intervened, and I certainly hadn’t thought tonight would end up with his head at my crotch and his fingers getting closer to the fiery inferno that had become my center.
Fuck it. I lifted a leg, and he smoothly propped my foot on his shoulder. My whole body jolted when his tongue plowed through my folds and went to my clit like he had a private GPS.
“Oh god, Tate.”
“Get nice and loud, honey.”
I melted against his mouth, against his body. Only his hands holding me open kept me rooted in place. The leg that was on the floor vibrated as he licked across my clit. He tested different speeds and pressures, but I was a lousy pupil. I didn’t know what I liked other than him to continue doing what he was doing. It didn’t matter what he did with his tongue, I kept coiling tighter and tighter, energy compressing for an impending explosion.
