He’s still in his gray sweatpants that hug his perfect butt and strong thighs, and the green shirt that reminds me of the olive drab shirts Mason used to wear. Except that there’s nothing drab about it, it stretches across his muscles that roll and flex each time he moves. I’m pretty sure that’s what he slept in last night.
He turns his head and winks at me as he lays clothes, guns, knives, and toiletries on the bed.
Thinking about being without him through the night is causing anxiety in my chest and I need to stop it. He’s not going to be gone long. I just feel safer when I’m with him and the past couple of weeks don’t feel as gripping when he’s next to me.
Damn it, I don’t know how Sloane does this.
I watch him move around the room while sipping my hazelnut coffee, well, it’s mostly creamer, but it still has the caffeine kick I need to get me through the morning. He stops and reaches for something on the bed, and his t-shirt sleeve moves up over the muscles around his upper arm and I watch them move with each small movement he makes.
Watching him is making my whole center tingle, the flex of his back and the way his sweats shift on his ass as he moves is making everything warm and wet. The little muscle on the back of his arm flexes when he puts a gun in the side of his bag and a flood of heat washes through me as I tilt my head to watch.
Setting my coffee on the dresser, I walk up behind him and slide my hands around his waist to his hard chest and set my lips against his back, inhaling leather and soap. He dropswhat he’s doing and grasps my hands, pulling one up to kiss the center of my palm.
“You’ll need to leave me a couple of your shirts so I can sleep in them.” I say into the fabric on his back.
He turns in my arms and looks down at me. “I’ll leave you all my shirts, lepa. What’s mine is yours.”
Setting my chin against his chest, I’m working up the courage to say something. Sliding my hands under his shirt so I can feel his skin, I drag my fingertips over the sharp definition in his abs and up his sides. What I’m doing to him is pressed against my belly.
Clearing my throat, I say, “I want to try something I’ve never done before.”
He pulls my shirt away from my back to tuck his hands under the fabric and his rough, warm palms glide over my skin. “Yeah?What’s that?”
Stepping away from him, I turn and move across the room to close the door. My heart is beating so hard at what I’m about to do and I turn to face him, my back against the door. When I click the lock, one side of his lips twitch, but when I move toward him, desire heating my eyes, pulling my shirt over my head, his smile drops.
“Christ.” His eyes move down to my chest and his sweats tent even higher.
I’m so hot, I’d rub against a stripper pole to see the look he is giving me right now. He’s turned on, but he doesn’t move.
Stopping in front of him, I hook my thumbs in the waist of my shorts and push them down over my hips to let them fall to the floor. His gaze drops to the bare skin at my apex.
“Fuck me.” He whispers low before he drags his gaze back up to my face.
“I was feeling… different… last night.” I can feel my cheeks heat andI shrug a shoulder.
Keeping my eyes locked on his, I push his shirt up his body, he grasps the material between his shoulder blades and rips it over his head. My eyes finally drop to his torso, and I trace some of the heavier lines of his tattoos with my fingers. Goose pimples raise on his skin, and I look up at him through my lashes with a grin.
His eyes are hooded and he looks like he is about to pounce and eat me for dinner. Trying not to let my nervousness ruin it, I softly press my mouth to his chest and slowly pepper kisses from one side to the other. When I hook my thumbs in the waist of his sweats, I slide my tongue down his abs as I push them down and lower myself in front of him.
“Lepa…” It sounds like a warning and a plea at the same time.
Sliding my hands up his thighs, I stop him from saying anything else. “I want to.”
He’s hard and heavy in front of me, a little drop of liquid shines on the rounded tip. Wrapping my hand around his length, he hisses when I put the head in my mouth and swirl my tongue over the top. He’s salty, but not in a bad way, it’s almost a pleasant taste.
“Fuuuck.” He whisper-moans and slides his fingertips along my forehead down the side of my face.
Lifting my eyes to look at him, I take a little more. The smoothness glides right over my lips and I close my lips around his shaft and let him slowly slide out of my mouth before I swirl my tongue over the top again.
Letting him pop out of my mouth, I look at the hard, silky skin wet with my saliva and smile before I suck him back in, he slides even easier now since he’s wet and each time I lower my mouth over him, I let him go a little farther back in my throat.
Suddenly, he pulls out of my mouth and drops to his knees in front of me, grabbing my nape and crashing his lipsto mine. His tongue spears into my mouth and he pulls my body to his.
Leaning my head away from him in confusion, I look into his eyes. “Was I doing it wrong?”
He shakes his head to the side once with a huff. “Fuck no, you were about to make me come and I don’t want to come in your mouth. I want to come in that pretty pussy.”
My smile is triumphant. “So, you liked it?”
