“Pretty much what I expected. What’s up?” Apart from me. Because seriously? Could I be getting hard again already? This is beyond a joke.
“Would you like a surprise?”
I’d like something. But I can’t have it. Ever. “Yes?” I have to stifle a groan.
“I’ve finished your plans! I was hoping maybe you could call in and have a look at them this afternoon if you’re around?”
The thought of spending the afternoon alone with Greer, after what I did in the shower, seems risky.
“Wow. That was quick. I’m going to Harry and Stella’s tonight. I could look at them there if you like?” I hadn’t been planning to go to dinner, but right now, it seems the lesser of two evils.
“Well, I’d rather not do it with all those people around. I want to have the chance to talk about it properly, and you know what a zoo it can be over there. I was thinking maybe you could call in here and then give me a lift to Mum’s. If you like what I’ve done, we could take them with us.”
I’m completely unable to think of a reasonable reason why not. Maybe because there’s no blood flow to my brain. In no time at all, I find myself heading to Greer’s flat with a combination of anticipation and dread.
Her door is ajar when I reach the landing, so I head down the hall to the lounge room. Greer is bent over the dining table, making notes on the swathes of paper covering the surface. But that’s not what I notice. What causes my lungs to seize and steals my tongue is the sight of long, slender legs exposed by short, frayed denim cut-offs, clinging tightly to a perfect arse as she bends over the table. She smiles at me over her shoulder before straightening up.
“You’re looking better than the last time I saw you.”
“Yeah, the stitches came out on Monday. All better.” I lift my arm to show her the small bandage on my arm, still protecting the healing wound.
“Do you want a cuppa before we get started?”
Just to get her out of the room—away from me—for a minute, I agree. Somehow I have to get a hold of myself. And not literally. Not until I’m home at least.
All too soon, she’s back, the shoulder of her white peasant blouse dropping alarmingly off her shoulder, her mass of hair pulled into an untidy ponytail, her skin smelling of desire and cinnamon. I wish I could say it was purely physical. Then it would be easier to ignore. And take care of. It’s the rest of her. She’s smart and talented. Funny and kind. And yeah, sure, I’ve hooked up with plenty of women you could say the same about. But none of them have been, well, Greer. It’s as simple and as complicated as that.
At first, it’s torture to sit shoulder to shoulder with her at the table, but as she starts to explain her drawings, I get caught up in her enthusiasm and swept away by the creative and innovative ideas she’s come up with.
“This is brilliant. I would never have thought of half this stuff. You’re really talented, Greer.” I’m honestly blown away.
“You really like them?” The eager nervousness on her face is touching and reminds me how young she is.
“Really, really. I can’t think of a single thing I would change.”
“Oh, give it time. I’m sure you’ll think of plenty.” Her eyes roam over the blueprints with pride, fingertips tracing the lines on the laptop screen. The muscles in my belly clench as I watch the movement, and I’m again aware of how close we’re sitting. Of the brush of her thigh, the scent of her hair, the warmth of her skin.
Without warning the air is charged with tension. Raising her eyes from the plans, she meets my gaze. Her body seems to soften and melt towards me. My skin feels hot and tight.
“Do you have any … er … questions?” Her voice is nervous, low and husky.
We’re close now. Close enough for me to feel her breath on my skin.
“No. I … I think I need some … time.”
“Time. Okay. Yeah. Time is good.” Somehow my lips are brushing her cheek, her ear, raising shivers along her skin. The air feels thick and heavy. Her eyes drift closed as my lips move to the throbbing pulse in her throat. “Do you want—?”
“Yes,” I start, a heartbeat before my lips settle delicately on hers. Our first kiss at the auction was spontaneous, a joyous meeting of lips. This kiss is different. Our lips are so gentle, so light, they barely touch, but I can feel it with everything I am, smooth and dark and intense, underpinned by a visceral need that takes my breath away.
I don’t plan it, yet somehow I find myself lifting her from her chair, sliding her onto my lap, so she’s straddling me with her beautiful thighs, our kiss unbroken until she settles the heat of her core over my cock. Jesus, have I ever been this hard? My hormones have taken control of the wheel. My lips move down and across her jaw, her throat, her exposed shoulder. She tips her head back, giving me better access and pushing her breasts forward as my fingers slide her blouse further off her shoulder, exposing one breast. Fuck, she isn’t wearing a bra. I can’t help myself. I suck her deep pink nipple into my mouth, and she gasps, grinding her core against my hard-on as her hand comes up and sweeps the other shoulder of her blouse down before sliding under my t-shirt.
I growl at the feel of her long fingers sliding along my skin, up my side and around my back, her nails digging into my shoulders as I lift her from my lap and slide her arse onto the table.
“I have to taste you. Now. Just this once.” I groan as my fingers make short work of the button and zipper on her shorts. I pull them, along with her knickers, down her long legs in one swift motion, dropping them on the floor before pressing her thighs apart. Greer leans back, bracing her hands on the table behind her, knocking notepads and pencils to the floor.
“God, you smell incredible.” I take in her glistening folds. She’s bare, apart from a tiny triangle of red curls. A signpost saying ‘press here’. Smooth and bare and pink and so very, very wet. Any self-control I might’ve been able to scrape together vanishes as I bury my nose between her thighs, inhaling deeply.
With a low moan, Greer presses her hips forward and I flatten my tongue along her opening, swiping up to her clit before sucking her in. Within seconds, her hips are bucking. “Oh, yes. Right … yes,” she whimpers as my lips, teeth and tongue work their way up and down her swollen pussy again and again. Her thighs tense beside my head, and I know she’s close.
