Now I’m the one who’s breathless and questioning while he props himself up on his forearms over me. I felt cute and in charge while he was behind me and I was rubbing against him, but this is totally different.
There’s nowhere for me to look except into his eyes or at his broad chest, where every muscle is tight and coiled and made to stand out even more by the tattoos that spread all the way across and down both shoulders and biceps.
“Do you remember what happened last night?” He dips his head low, like he’s going to kiss me, but stops just short of my lips and inhales deeply instead. “Fuck, how do you still smell so good?”
I’m not sure how to answer the second question—or maybe it’s rhetorical and I’m not supposed to answer at all—so I stick to the first.
I know he’s not just testing my memory right now. He’s giving me an out. A chance to pretend I don’t remember at all, to blame last night on the wine and walk back everything I said and did as a drunken mistake.
But I’m not going to lie, and I can’t go back to pretending there’s nothing between us. We’re way past the point of plausible deniability.
“I remember all of it.” I look into his eyes because I have nothing to hide. I have no shame after the way I threw myself at him. Well, maybe a little shame, but only for the way I acted. Not for what I said. “Every word. Everything I told you I wanted.”
His jaw clenches and I can see the flash of heat in his eyes before he responds.
“I remember it all too. And I meant everything I said. The question is, now that you’re sober, do you still want it?”
He’s giving me another last-minute off-ramp because that’s the kind of thoughtful guy he is, but I’ve already made my mind up and I don’t have to think before I answer this time.
I nod, but he shakes his head.
“Not good enough. I need to hear you say it.”
Holy hell. I’d be mortified if I wasn’t so turned on right now. His face is still so close to mine that it’s starting to become overwhelming. The scent of him, the heat in his eyes, and the low, possessive growl in his voice are combining to make me feel needy and desperate for the things that only he can give me.
“Say it, Heather. No wine, no distractions. Just you telling me what you want.”
“I want you.” It’s the easiest part to say, but I know he isn’t going to settle for just that. “I want you to touch me. I want your hands on me, and your mouth. Your fingers…”
I have to stop for a moment because my body is already fully on board with this plan, and I’m having no trouble at all imagining how good it will feel to have him touching me, teasingme, and finally giving me that big, thick cock that I’ve been literally dreaming about.
Still, he wants more.
“Keep going.” He reaches down to adjust himself, and I can clearly see the outline of his cock through his pants. “Tell me everything.”
“I want you inside me. I want you to make me feel everything I haven’t let myself feel in years. I want to know what it’s like to be with someone who actually wants me. Someone who sees me.”
“Idosee you.” His voice is rough. “And I want you. Fuck, I want you.”
He groans, like he’s trying to hold himself back. He seems to be losing ground with the push-and-pull that’s clearly going on inside his head, though, because it only takes another moment before his mouth is on mine.
The kiss is hard and hungry, with so much pent-up need that it takes me by surprise at first. But when he cups my face with one hand and slides his tongue past mine, I finally feel like I can kiss him back just as desperately.
I move my hands to his shoulders and start to pull him closer, wanting him to keep kissing me as hard and deep as he can. Instead, he breaks away with a small shake of his head, drawing a frustrated whimper from me as he plants a line of softer kisses down my cheek and throat.
“Tell me to stop,” he growls against my skin. “Say the word and I will.”
“Don’t you dare.” I lean my head back against the pillow to give him easier access to my throat, my shoulders, and whatever else he needs. “Please don’t stop.”
He reaches behind me, lifting and cradling my body close for a moment while he eases my zipper down. I take the opportunity to bury my face against his neck and suck on that spot at the baseof his throat where I can feel his pulse thrumming against my lips.
I’m rewarded with a low, hungry growl and the feel of his hard cock throbbing at my thigh.
“You feel what you do to me?” He exhales and grinds against me before easing me back down onto the mattress and slowly helping me out of the little black dress. “How hard I am for you?”
All I can do is nod and moan to keep encouraging him as he pulls the dress away from my body and tosses it over the side of the bed. I don’t want to seem greedy or demanding, but the feel of his skin against mine is intoxicating in a way I wasn’t prepared for. The closer we get to being naked, the more deliriously turned on I am.
He stops just long enough to rise up and let his eyes roam up and down my body, licking his lips like he’s half-starved when he gets to my black lace bra—and again when he makes it to my matching panties.
