We dropped Ella off, and I turned the car around, back to Hayes’s place. The drive stretched and contracted simultaneously, minutes feeling like hours and seconds all at once. Streetlights blurred past. Every traffic light we caught felt like torture. Every green light a gift.
Inside his house, the door had barely clicked shut behind us when Hayes spoke.
“You know, I’ve been thinking about you all week.”
The confession made me feel oddly flattered, familiar heat unfurling through me, liquid and insistent.
“Constantly. It’s been distracting.” He stepped closer, his presence filling my senses—the clean scent of his cologne, the heat radiating from his body, the barely contained hunger in the way he looked at me. “Youare very distracting.”
“I’d say I’m sorry, but that would be a lie.”
“Good. Don’t be.”
Then he was kissing me, his mouth moving against mine with purpose. His hands framed my face, thumbs stroking my cheekbones with surprising tenderness even as his lips claimed mine with increasing urgency. The kiss went on and on, building in intensity until I was dizzy with it. His hands roamed my back, slipping beneath my shirt to find bare skin, and I gasped against his mouth at the cold touch, the contrast sending shivers skittering up my spine. My fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer.
“Bedroom,” I managed between kisses. “Now.”
I tugged him toward the stairs, not waiting for a response. He followed, his hand finding mine and lacing our fingers together, the gesture gentle and sweet.
We met in the middle of the room, colliding in another kiss that stole the breath from my lungs. His hands were everywhere—my hair, creeping down my sides to my waist, where he pulled me flush against him. I could feel him through his jeans, already hard and ready, and the knowledge sent heat pooling between my thighs.
I tugged at his shirt, pulling it up and over his head, breaking the kiss only long enough to get it off. His chest was exactly as I remembered from last week—nicely defined, with a scattering of dark hair that my fingers itched to explore. I traced the lines of his muscles, feeling them flex beneath my touch.
“Your turn,” he murmured, his hands finding the hem of myshirt.
I raised my arms, letting him strip it away. His eyes raked over me, taking in the black lace bra I’d chosen with maybe too much optimism this morning, and the look on his face was worth every penny it had cost.
“You’re gorgeous,” he said, voice almost reverent.
“Less talking, more touching.”
He complied, his hands sliding up my ribs to cup my breasts through the lace. His thumbs found my nipples, circling them until they hardened into peaks, and I arched into his touch. His mouth closed over one nipple through the lace, sucking hard, and my knees went weak. I threaded my fingers through his hair, holding him there, riding the waves of pleasure that crashed through me with each pull of his mouth.
He released me with a wet pop, then reached around to unhook my bra. It fell away, and I felt his mouth again, this time without the barrier of lace. His tongue swirled around my nipple, teeth grazing just enough to make me gasp, and all the while his hand worked the other breast, pinching and rolling until I was panting. Heat built low in my belly, coiling tighter with each touch.
I reached for his belt, fumbling with the buckle in my haste. He helped me, stepping back just long enough to shed his jeans and boxers, and then he was naked before me, beautiful and aroused and mine for the taking.
I drank in the sight of him—all lean muscle and bare skin, his cock hard and flushed against his stomach. Last week, we’d barely gotten our clothes off before the urgency had taken over. Tonight, I wanted to memorize every inch of him.
“See something you like?” he asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
“Maybe.” I unzipped my jeans, shimmying out of them along with my underwear until I stood before him just as bare. “What about you?”
His eyes went molten. “Come here and find out.”
We came together in a tangle of limbs and seeking hands, falling onto the bed in a graceless heap. He rolled us so I was beneath him, his weight pressing me into the mattress, and I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“I want you,” I breathed against his mouth.
He ground his hips against mine in response, his cock sliding through my wetness, and we both groaned at the friction. I reached between us, wrapping my hand around him, stroking slowly from base to tip, and the sound he made when I squeezed was pure sin.
“Shay.” My name was a warning, and a plea—all in one.
“I want you inside me.” I guided him to my entrance, lifting my hips in invitation. “Now.”
But instead of pushing forward, he stilled. His hand covered mine, gently pulling it away. “Not yet.”
Frustration sparked through me. “What do you mean, not yet?”
