“Oh my God,” I whispered. “Are you turned on?”
Her blush deepened, spreading down her neck. “I—that’s—you can’t just?—”
“You are,” I said, leaning forward. “You’re turned on right now.”
“It’s been a long time,” she said, her voice slightly strangled. “And dirty talk has always been one of my triggers, okay? So when you start going on about how you're going to focus on a woman’s pleasure and learn what she likes and—” She broke off, pressing her hands to her cheeks and shaking her head. “God, this is so embarrassing.”
“Wait,” I said, blinking in surprise. “That was dirty talk?”
“From where I’m sitting? Yes, absolutely.”
“But I was just explaining my research.”
“Luke.” She dropped her hands and opened her eyes. “You essentially just told me you’ve spent years preparing to blow a woman’s mind in bed. That you’ve studied how to make women come. That you’re enthusiastic and attentive, and you’d focus entirely on my pleasure. How is that not dirty talk?”
When she put it that way …
“I guess I didn’t think about it like that.”
“Well, do.” She was still flushed, still breathing fast. “Because that was possibly the hottest thing anyone’s ever saidto me, and you didn’t even mean to, which makes it even hotter somehow.”
My brain was struggling to catch up. “You liked it?”
“I really did.”
We stared at each other across the space between the couch and the floor. The fire crackled. The house creaked. And something in the air shifted.
I felt a smile spread across my face. “So if I were to tell you all the things I’ve imagined doing specifically toyou, you’d be into that?”
Holly’s tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “Honestly? I think I’d rather you show me.”
My cock went immediately hard, and my brain stopped processing anything beyond those five words as the world narrowed down to her face, her eyes, and the way she was looking at me. “You want me to fuck you, Holly Bascombe?”
She held my gaze, her chin lifting slightly. “I really fucking do.”
seven
. . .
Luke
Holly Bascombe—beautiful,sweet, entirely out of my league—wanted me to fuck her, and I felt frozen in place.
“Luke?” Her voice was soft, uncertain. “If you don’t want to?—”
“Oh, I want to.” My voice sounded rough. Rougher than it ever had been before. “I just … I want to make sure that you’re sure. That this isn’t just?—”
“I’m sure.” She leaned back, her palms resting behind her, her legs stretched out in front of her.
I often had difficulty with nuance, but there was nothing subtle about the shift. Her posture was open, welcoming.
Inviting.
“I’ve been sure since you drove across town in an ice storm to rescue me from hypothermia.”
“You weren’t hypothermic.”
“Luke.” She smiled, fond, exasperated, and heated all at once. “Are you really going to argue semantics right now?”
