In reality, any semblance of sense left the building as soon as I invited him to stay the night. He comes toe-to-toe with me, placing his tumbler on the counter by my side with a soft clink. His hand slides from the cool glass, traveling under my T-shirt to my warm waist. He squeezes his fingers lightly, branding my skin and burning through all the boundaries we set. My hands grip viselike on the counter, holding on for dear life. As though letting go of the edge would mean letting go of everything. Acknowledging the ticking time bomb of attraction lodged between us since the very first day we met. His body presses against mine, the bare skin of his chiseled torso seeping heat through my T-shirt until my skin prickles. His scent fills my nostrils, smoky-sweet and inviting. I close my eyes and lower my chin.This is torture.But I’ve already made the first move. If he wants this, it’s his turn.
He glides his fingers in aching strokes across my side as he brings his mouth to my ear: “In the yoga class this is all I could think about.”
His warm breath and vibrating chest send a message to my knees to just give up now. I sink a couple of inches, but he steadies me with a gentle hand.
“Is that why you declined to comment on the evaluation form?” I whisper, my breath caught somewhere deep in my chest.
He chokes out a laugh. “What was I meant to say? ‘I was barely paying attention to the class because I was concentrating so much on not getting hard’?”
Rough hands trace my sides, dragging down my waist and my hips until they slide toward the outside of my thighs, fingers pressing in lightly and then, slowly, more tightly around my skin. His eyes are laced with roaring desire, but I can see that he’s holding back. Every movement, every touch is softer than he wants it to be. Restrained when it wants to be fierce.
“And how’s that concentration now?” I ask, whispering it breathlessly into his ear like a statement I’ll deny if he ever repeats.
He lets out a low hum, smoothing his hands around my thighs until they’re underneath me and lifting me up onto the cold counter. I let out an involuntarily moaning gasp, releasing my hands from the surface and grabbing on to his broad, toned shoulders for balance. He settles between my legs so I can feel the press of his erection against me.
His shoulders shift under my palms as he reaches out and lightly strokes my cheek with his thumb. “Grace, I have never been able to concentrate on anything around you.”
Before I can reply, his lips delicately brush against mine, soft and faint compared to the hardness sittingbetween my thighs. I curl my fingers into his skin, parting my lips for him. He groans at the invitation, and slips his tongue against mine, grinding himself against me and increasing the intensity. Electric desire prickles through every nerve as I match his demanding rhythm. My hands slide up his neck and into his hair, our mouths clash and his sweet taste makes my insides reach their boiling point. His lips drag kisses over my jaw and down until his teeth meet my neck. I whimper, gripping and clenching his hair in my fists like pulling tufts of grass from the earth. The jagged feel of his teeth and tongue and lips and breath make me so lightheaded I’d fall off the counter if his body wasn’t pinning me against it. He slips his hand into my hair, matching my light tugs and sending me into a complete spiral of staggering lust.
Finally coming up for air, his chest heaves as our foreheads meet. His brow knits as though he wasn’t expecting it to feelthisgood. Eyes blazing, he flicks between my heavy-lidded eyes and my plumped pink lips. I lean my mouth forward, ready to accept his on mine all night, but instead of meeting me halfway, he bends down onto one knee, keeping my gaze as he pushes my legs apart with his overstretched hands.
“Wait.” As soon as the word leaves my mouth I feel his steel grip on me loosen. He stays nestled between my legs but pulls back up and moves his hands to the counter. I feel the focused burn where his fingers pushed into my skin. His gaze meets mine, waiting politely as I’d asked.
“I’m not... I haven’t...” I swallow dryly, feeling embarrassed for the first time since he started touching me. “I haven’t shaved... in a few days.”
More like twelve days but who’s counting?
I know it’s nothing I should actually be ashamed of, but William wouldn’t touch me unless I was completely clean-shaven. There were a couple of times where he stopped so that I could go and use an emergency wax strip before we continued. And I certainly wasn’t expecting my night to end this way.
He lets out a breathless laugh, a wave of relief flowing over his face as his forehead leans forward to meet mine.
He drags my bottom lip between his teeth and then says, voice dropping an octave lower than I’m used to, “I know whatever I find is going to be perfect. Plus, I’m a fan of the retro look,” he admits onto my lips with a curling smirk and a shrug, forcing another nervous breath out of me to mingle with his. My blood pulses around his fingers. I lift my chin to the ceiling as he lowers himself again and pulls my underwear to the side, fearing that the image of his mouth between my thighs is going to make me explode on sight.
“Fuck, Grace. Have you been this wet for me all night?” he growls, sounding almost annoyed at the time we’ve wasted in this suite. “We’d better do something about that.”
His mouth hovers near me, one final question before we march hand in hand over the line. My palm moves from gripping his shoulder into his hair, pulling lightlyon the soft strands, circling them around my fingers. He chuckles through his nose, accepting my silent answer.
I gasp as he pulls me into him, dragging me forward, gravity helping him put delicious pressure against my aching center. His biceps harden as his arms wrap under and around my thighs, caging the lower half of my body in place as he slowly, gently, devastatingly licks his way inside me. Every swipe of his tongue, his lips, his teeth pulls me further away from my inhibitions. I grind against him and he matches the rhythm, taking notes on what pulls gasping breaths from my throat and giving me more of it.
A wave of throbbing heat shoots up my body. I bite my lip to stop myself from crying out, as if I’m in denial of the overwhelming sensation firing around my core. Every nerve ending is about to burst into flames as I combust on the cold counter. My legs shake as I arch my back, crying obscenities into the dark.
He comes back up and kisses me hard, drawing breath from my mouth as though I’m his own personal oxygen mask. Before the fog of orgasm fully clears, he grips my thighs again and lifts me until I lock on to his hips. My limbs wrap around him as he carries me through the suite to the bedroom. I catch his bottom lip between my teeth, kissing the smirk right off his face. His throbbing cock rubs against my underwear, sending a jolt of heat up my legs with every step.
As he lays me on the bed among the crumpled sheets, he kisses my forehead, my cheek, my jaw, my neck andit’s so tender I briefly forget who we are and everything that’s happened between us. A shy smile splits my lips. He notices and traces my lips with his thumb, smiling a full smile back before returning to map my body with his mouth, gliding my T-shirt up over my chest and greedily taking my nipple into his mouth.
After a few seconds like this, he lifts his head as if coming out of a trance.
“We need a condom,” he says breathily.
“Do you have one?” I ask.
“Why would I bring a condom to a business meeting?” he asks my rib cage.
My heavy head lifts up off the bed to look at him.
“Don’t you keep one in your wallet or something?” I say desperately, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my chest.
“No, wallets can start degrading the latex after like three hours.” He rubs his face with the hand that was just all over me.
