My stomach twisted, my chest grew tight, and the swell of lust became unbearable.
I clung to him, and he groaned when my nails bit into his skin.
This was all his fault—his alone. It was how he kissed and smelled and was so desirable. So magnificent. It was all his fault for hypnotizing me and waking up a part of myself I barely recognized.
It was all his fault that I had…fallen in love.
Neil fell back down on the couch and took me down with him. I found myself straddling his pelvis, his swollen erection between my thighs. He had one hand on my ass, the other clasping my hair in his tight fist. In turn, I put my hands on him, worshipping every bit of him. I stroked his firm biceps and his powerful shoulders before traveling down to his pecs. When I accidentally grazed his ribs, Neil squeezed his eyes shut and quit kissing me.
He let out a grunt of pain and let his head fall back, trying to catch his breath.
“Oh my God. I’m sorry,” I whispered in horror through swollen, painful lips. I was sweating, and my heart throbbed in my temples. I moved my hands up to his face and felt along his jaw, covered with the short layer of scruff that looked so good on him.
His fingers spread out over my hips, and his golden eyes opened slowly, coming back to me.
Neil was not in good shape, and that rictus of pain on his face was a clear sign of how much he was hurting.
“What happened?” I asked, carding my fingers through the long hair at the top of his head until it was arranged just the way he liked. A hank of hair had tumbled over his wounded eyebrow and hung in front of his eye, so I brushed it aside with my fingertips. Oddly enough, he let me do it. He allowed me to touch him without objection. I stroked the shorter hair near his ears while Neil watched me gravely, accepting every one of my touches.
“How long are you here?” he asked, licking his lower lip. My eyes tracked the motion of his tongue—it was sexy as hell. I blinked, coming out of my daze.
“Two days,” I answered, and, instinctively, I began to trace his bruised eyebrow as I examined all the lines of his face: the straight, symmetrical nose, the lush, sensual mouth, and the eyes, which might have seemed cold to others but were, to me, the most expressive I had ever seen.
It was a surreal feeling—only a few hours earlier, Neil lived only in my imagination, and now here he was, right there with me.
Everything was real; it was not a dream.
He touched my hair, letting his fingers slide down to the ends.
“This is getting long,” he said thoughtfully, watching his hand instead of me. Then he let the auburn strands fall over my breast before selecting a single strand to toy with, wrapping it around his index and middle fingers.
“Yeah.” I smiled. His eyes got caught on my lips and stayed there even longer than they usually did.
“Don’t cut it,” he ordered, and my heart swelled in my chest. He liked my hair. Neil took me by the nape of the neck and drew us closer. I felt his hot breath on my lips and I swallowed nervously, quivering with the longing that coursed unstoppably through my veins.
“I’d love to show you why I like it long, but I can’t right now,” he said, his tone angry yet sensual. Then, his grip loosened, and he gave a weary sigh.
He said “can’t,” not “won’t.”
I dearly wanted to follow up on his statement, but then it occurred to me why a man might appreciate long hair, and I went red, naturally.
“No, for fuck’s sake—no blushing,” he said severely, positioning his hand between our bodies, right over his boxers. I glanced down, seeing first the tattoo on his left hip, and then grimaced when I noticed the head of his penis, dark and swollen and peeking out from under his tight elastic waistband. Neil squirmed around on the couch, trying to get comfortable. It must have been difficult, dealing with such a hard, stubborn erection. Then, like always, I got embarrassed at the knowledge that I was the one who had provoked this reaction.
For the first time, I felt the overwhelming urge to taste him in a way I’d never tasted anyone else before.
My blush deepened. The idea of doing that with a man had never occurred to me before and I knew I’d never have the guts to offer it to him.
“Why are you so embarrassed? What’s going on in your head?” Neil tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, and I looked up at him.
Why did he always have the ridiculous ability to look right through me?
I cleared my throat and inched back further on his lap. I needed to get some air and clear my head.
“Why didn’t you reply to my last text?” I asked him. Switching to another topic of conversation would give me a chance to recover.
His eyes studied me closely. Then, glancing around the couch, he stretched out an arm to scoop up the bag of pistachios he’d discarded there earlier. He opened it, looking like a little kid presented with his favorite ice cream, and pulled out a handful.
Though he was so beautiful even when he was just munching pistachios, I refused to be distracted and continued trying to extract a few more words from him.
