He took the wineglass out of her hand, moved the container of dip out of the way, and kissed her. Because he wanted to kiss her and also to shut her up.
Her mouth was sweet and cool from the wine and hot, with a taste that was purely Lauren. She kissed him back eagerly, meeting his tongue with her own.
Renee had always liked sex, but she was stingy with her mouth, like kisses were unsanitary or something. Lauren kissed with her whole heart, like she loved kisses, his kisses, exploring his mouth greedily, experimenting with different depths and tempos. Like being back in high school, when long, drowning-in-you make-out sessions were all there was, were everything, when a girl might let you touch her breasts but never past her panties.
Kissing Lauren, he could almost believe she was right.Life’s about the journey, not the destination.
Until she reached down and put her hand on his dick and squeezed.
All the blood abandoned his head.
He slid his hands up from her waist, taking her shirt with them, and pulled down her bra. The elastic caught under her breasts, shoving them up and together. Her nipples tightened under the kiss of cool air.Beautiful. He licked her nipple, sucking it into his mouth. She grabbed his head like she needed something to hold on to, like she wanted him to go on. So he did, using his tongue and the edge of his teeth, and instead of complaining or resisting or fighting him for control, she made this gratifying little noise, her hands moving down to his shoulders, rubbing him, patting him. He couldn’t remember the last time someone had touched him with eagerness. With affection.
He pushed her down and spread her wide. So pink. So beautiful. His stomach sucked in, like he’d been punched in the gut. She lay back in the middle of the picnic things and closed her eyes and let him do whatever he wanted. He worked her until he couldn’t stand it, until he couldn’t stand not being in her one minute more. Rising to his knees, he yanked at his belt.
She half rolled away from him, reaching across the blanket.
He grabbed her back, crazy-man possessive. “I’m not finished with you yet.”
She grinned up at him. “Good.” Pulling her hand out of her bag, she slapped a condom in his palm.
She was killing him. He was dying here, dying to have her moving and under him, dying to feel her around him. He covered himself and fell on her, kissing her hard and fierce and deep, finding his place between her thighs.
He rammed home, filling her in one slick thrust. God, she felt good. So good. He gritted his teeth and began to move in and out, his breath coming in ragged pants, all his frustration and longing for her surging against his control.
She planted her feet flat on the deck and arched to take him. He felt the tremors start deep in her body, moving through her, moving through him. He couldn’t breathe.
“Jack.” She came around him, his name on her lips, her fingers digging into his butt.
He buried his head in the warm curve of her neck and lost himself in her arms.
Thirteen
THE LAST RAYSof the setting sun glowed behind Lauren’s closed lids. She sprawled amid the ruins of their picnic, sweaty, sore, and slightly sticky, as if she’d lain out at the beach too long. Jack lay over her, heavy and golden and warm. She stroked his back, raking her nails lightly over the cotton of his shirt, and he shivered in reaction.
“I’ve never made love outdoors before,” she said dreamily.
He made a noncommittal noise into her neck, and she sucked in her breath as all the nerves there vibrated in pleasure.
“Did you? Ever make love outside before?” she asked, seeking... More than sex. Emotional connection. Reassurance, maybe.That was amazing. Was it as good for you as it was for me?
“Does the backseat of a car count?”
Another little flutter of humor or doubt. “I don’t think... No.”
“Then, nope.” He levered off her, their bodies separating by slow, near painful degrees. Her skin protested the loss of his heat. “This was a first for me.”
She nodded, her chest uncomfortably full, her throat unaccountably tight.
He looked down at her, his dark eyes unreadable. “Are you all right?”
A flush swept from her chest to her hairline. Her bra was still twisted under her breasts, her skirt around her waist, leaving her feeling more naked than if she wore nothing at all. “Fine.”
She struggled to sit. He allowed that, but when she started tugging at her clothes, he covered her hand with his until she looked at him.
“Are you sure?” he asked quietly. “I was pretty... aggressive there. Rough.”
Everything in her melted and surrendered at the concern in his voice and his eyes. “I liked it,” she answered honestly. Her flush deepened. “How... How are you?”
