“Oh God.” I raise a hand to my hot face, grimacing. “Did I really say that? Shit, and then I didn’t do it, did I? No wonder you were angry.”
He barks out a laugh. “That’s not why I was angry. I’m pretty sure you would have done it if I’d let you.”
I glance away in shame, but he reaches out and takes my chin, tilting my face back towards his.
“I was angry because I liked you and the next day you pushed me away. I just wanted to be with you.”
I smile, reaching forward to slide my hand around him again. His head drops back against the headboard and he groans on an exhale.
“Did that turn you on?” I murmur.
“What?”
“Me saying that to you, on New Year’s.”
“Uh, yes. Do you know how hard it was to walk away from you that night? It nearly killed me. As soon as I got home, I had no choice…” He shrugs, like it’s no big deal and he did this often. Well, apparently he did—andfuck. Heat shoots through me, burning intense at the meeting of my thighs.
“Maybe this will make up for it.”
I lean down, lowering my mouth over his thick length, and all the air rushes out of his lungs. He drops his hands to my head, but not to push me—just to feel me move up and down over him. I draw him into my mouth, one hand wrapped around the base, sliding my tongue up and down. I take my time, savoring everything: the taste of him, the shape and feel of him, the way he keeps breathing my name, the way I can tell he’s trying to hold back. And that little grunting, panting sound he’s making, the way he’s tugging on my hair—God, I want him again.
I stop, leaning back to glance up at him. And before I can do anything, he swings a leg over me, breathing hard as he tucks himself back into his underwear. He hauls me against him, crushing his lips to mine before pushing me up the bed, against the headboard.
“Your turn, dirty girl.”
I give a self-conscious giggle. “Dirty girl?”
“Mm-hm.” He leans over me, lowering his lips to my ear, rubbing his beard against my cheek. “The way you asked me to fuck you earlier? You’re nothing like the sweet girl I thought you were.”
Color floods my cheeks. “Well, I’m still—”
“Alex, I’m just teasing,” he says with a grin. “I loved it.” He lowers himself to his elbows in front of me, sliding his hands up my thighs. “But I want to tasteyou, now.”
“Oh.” I clamp my legs together. “No, not now.”
His brow furrows in confusion. “Are you serious? I didn’t expect you to be shy.”
“No, it’s not that.”
“You don’t like it?”
I snort. “God, no. It’s not that either. It’s just… can we wait until we’re back home and I’ve had a chance to, er, tidy up?”
“Oh.” He chuckles, moving to sit beside me at the headboard. “You know I don’t care.”
“I know. But I feel kind of self-conscious.”
His shoulders slump with disappointment. “Are you sure?”
I nod.
“Okay. But as soon as we’re home, you’re putting those legs over my shoulders.”
I give a grunt at the thought, skating my palm up his muscular thigh. He leans over to kiss me again, and I inch my hand closer to the bulge threatening the cotton of his boxer-briefs.
“But, um,” I say, feeling a bit uncertain, “can we—you know, are you still in the mood to…”
“What? Have sex again?”
