Hard as it is not to reach out and touch, I keep my hands to myself.
Teasing? Totally fair game, as far as I’m concerned, but I’m not gonna be the one to try and start something.
Ever since he put me off last night, something’s been telling me that, for whatever reason, Jesse needs to be the one to set the pace. So, teasing aside, I’m going to let him.
Am I above giving him a teeny nudge or two though? Hell no.
“You know, I couldn’t really get myself to stop thinking about you while I was in there either, sunshine,” I whisper, making sure my voice is low and breathy enough to conveyexactlywhat I’m trying to imply.
His mouth falls open with a punched out little sound, and I have to bite my lip to keep from grinning in delight.
“It’s not too late to make it up—”
The hot, firm press of Jesse’s lips isn’t hesitant or nervous as he swallows the rest of my words. Words that don’t matterat allanymore, ‘causeohhh yes.
The next second, I’m fuckinggone. Digging my fingers into the backs of his thick shoulders as my tongue tangles with his, meeting him stroke for stroke. Sucking his plush lower lip into my mouth so I can bite down to hear his low, filthy groan as he grinds his hips against me, hard and desperate, the hot friction of his cock straining through his jeans threatening to pull loose the towel that’s barely covering mine.
One of his hands slips up from my waist, skimming up andover the inked skin of my left side before,fuuck,his fingers brush against my nipple at the same moment as he sucks my tongue into his mouth, making my brain and body explode with crackles of pleasure exactly as if it were my cock he’d just closed his plump, soft lips around. If I weren’t too far gone to care, I might actually be embarrassed by how loud I moan into his mouth.
Even if I had been, the answering groan he gives and the hard thrust of his hips would make me forget anyway.
I can feel his grin against my lips as he splays his hand over my pec and rubs his thumb over the tight bud of my nipple again.
“Fuck, sunshine—” I’m gasping against his lips, giving my hips just a little roll against his thigh, just enough to make sure he can feel how he’s got my cock fuckingachingfor him.
Over the heavy sound of our hungry breaths, there’s another noise. An irritating beeping that I know meanssomething, but fuck if I care, because his mouth is on the line of my jaw, nipping and sucking.
Both his hands are roaming my body now. Teasing down my sides. Stroking over my stomach. Down—
Yes— Ohhfuck yess—
Tingling pleasure hums across my skin ahead of his touch, shooting straight south to join the blazing, electric heat building between us where my cock twitches and leaks as I grind it against the thigh he’s pressed forward between my legs, as much as he can get it with the towel still wrapped around me.
I’m at the point of just ripping the damn towel off, but the next panted breath I suck in has a choking, sharp scent to it, and suddenly a louder, piercing shrieking sound joins thelowkey beeping in the background.
“Fucking no,” Jesse half growls, half moans, dropping his head against my shoulder. “I forgot about the garlic bread.”
The heavy gust of his gasping breath fans deliciously over my skin, making it hard to care, but, because he’s either a total fucker or because he’s an actual, functional human being who doesn’t want to choke to death on burned garlic bread fumes, Jesse has the nerve to pull away, making a truly hilarious dash for the oven.
Okay, I don’tactuallythink he’s a fucker. Except now he’s sorta ruling out my functional human-being-thought too, ‘cause it legitimately looks like he’s about to go and reach bare handed into the oven—which, by the way, is billowing more smoke than ever now that he’s opened it.
Since I don’t want to see him get burned regardless, I get my ass into the kitchen as quickly as I can, while still keeping my towel somewhat wrapped around me, so I can shove the oven mitt sunshineshouldbe using into his hand.
By the time the blackened lumps that he insists onstillcalling garlic bread are safely outside the front door, the kitchen fan running, and the smoke alarm finally silent, Jesse at last remembers the pasta he’d had boiling.
“I told you I knew better than to trust your cooking,” I smirk, looking back over my shoulder to toss a grin at him as I scrape the gluey pile of mush out of the pot and into the trash, only to find him right beside me.
Like the tease he is, he leans in, whispering against the back of my neck, “I’m not sure this counts since you were distracting me.”
His breath is warm and so fucking sexy skimming over my skin, and even though my thoughts could slip into panic thathe blames me, that he’s just holding back from telling me it wasmethat made him ruin the dinner, they don’t. ‘Cause the way he’s stroking his hands up my back and down across my collarbones under the neck of the shirt I grudgingly pulled on feels too damn good, and the warm, solid presence of him feels too damn comforting. And because he smells like himself; citrus and cinnamon and the faint smell of that damn wool sweater of his, mixed up with burnt bread and garlic and whatever half-chopped herbs he’d forgotten about that were supposed to go on top of our dinner.
“Sounds like an excuse to me, sunshine.” I hold my breath for a moment, waiting, heart pounding as I wonder whether I’m about to regret my stupid-ass testing.
“Better let me try again tomorrow night then.” He moves his head forward, lips tracing the top of my tattoo where it starts low along the side of my neck.
My held breath rushes out with a little moan, and suddenly I forget why I was even holding it in the first place.
“Probably for the best anyway,” I murmur, reaching back to take fistfuls of his sweater so I can use it to tug his body closer against me. “I’m not really all that hungry…”
