I nod in understanding. When I’m feeling especially anxious, I go for long walks to burn off the excess energy.
“This past week, when I wasn’t with you I was at the gym,” he says. “I would have snapped a lot sooner otherwise.”
I smile wryly. “So, this is you managing this situation well?”
His laugh morphs into a grimace. “No. Obviously.” He draws my mouth down for a kiss. “I think you know what you do to me, Harriet. I slept with you two hours after I met you. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. You just… have this effect on me. I can’t explain it.”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know the feeling.”
We gaze at one another in the dim light, and I brush my mouth over his, savoring the way his bottom lip feels so soft against my own. I’m vaguely aware of a thought hovering at the edge of my mind—that I’m going to want to do this more than once—but I shove it away, focusing on Luke. His hair is ruffled and I push my hands into it as I kiss along the hot skin of his shoulders and chest. Then I lean over to inspect the tattoo on his left bicep, and my mouth widens into a grin. I can’t believe it.
“Oh my God,” I tease. “What kind of super-nerd gets the Millennium Falcon tattooed on his arm?”
Luke’s cheeks streak with crimson and I kiss them both. He goes to speak, but I cover his mouth with mine.
“It’s fucking hot,” I say, dragging my teeth gently over his bottom lip. “I love it.”
His brows rise, then he shakes his head with an evil grin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” Before I can respond, he flips us over so I’m on my back and pins my hands above my head.
I shriek, pretending to squirm, but I’m surprised to find I’m completely at ease with him taking charge. I trust him. And perhaps even more surprisingly, I don’t just feelcomfortablewith him holding me down—it’s kind of turning me on. I’m at his mercy, and that thought thrills me. I spend so much of my life trying to stay in control, but right now I feel like I can let go.
I gaze up at his strong, muscular arms, pinning me in place. How is it possible that something as normal as forearms can be so damn erotic? Why on earth—
“You okay?” Luke is watching me, hesitant. “Do you want me to let you go?”
“No, I like it. It’s just…”
“What?”
I chew my lip. “Okay. Don’t judge me, but you have such nice forearms. I’m kind of… obsessed with them.” My cheeks warm. “Is that weird?”
He shrugs. “You know I’m obsessed with your hair.” He releases a hand to stroke it over my head and gather my hair to one side, caressing it tenderly, reverently. I smile, feeling adored. Then he wraps it around his fist and gives the tiniest tug, and heat detonates inside me.
Christ. I didn’t expect to like that so much.
I wriggle, feeling restless, wanting his body on mine. He drops down to kiss me hard, pressing his hips between my parted legs and grinding against me. The friction is divine, but there are far too many clothes in the way. He must think so too, because he peels my sweater off and unhooks my bra. When he dips his head to suck my nipple into his mouth, I gasp at the shocking surge of electricity through me. He continues over my stomach, unzipping my jeans and tugging them down my legs, discarding them on the floor. My underwear follows, and he lowers himself to his elbows, sliding his hands up my thighs and guiding them open.
I think of past boyfriends who didn’t like doing what Luke’s about to do, how annoyed they got because I wouldn’t orgasm in five seconds. Then I have a brief moment of insanity. “You, um, don’t have to…”
Luke stills. “You don’t want me to?”
I prop myself up onto my elbows, glancing down at him. “Well, yes,” I say, laughing awkwardly. “But usually guys don’t… I mean, don’t feel like you have to.”Stop. God.
“Usually guys don’t what?”
I cringe. “They don’t want to. They just want to get on with it.”Why are you talking him out of this?
Luke gives me a strange look. “You’re dating the wrong guys, Harriet. Do you think I’m down here out of some sense of obligation?”
I lift a shoulder.
“I’m not.” He urges my legs further open, letting his gaze settle between them. “This is forme. I want to taste you. I want to feel you come on my tongue.”
God, that’s hot. But uncertainty stirs inside me. “What if I…can’t?”
He looks up at me and his face softens. “Well, I’ll be down here all night trying.” He hooks his mouth into a filthy grin, then sweeps his tongue over the wet heat between my thighs. A soft groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he murmurs, tasting me again. “So sweet.”
Holy mother of God. I’m going to pass out, I’m so turned on. I’m not sure if it’s from his words or what he’s doing with his mouth, but hell, I want it all. No one has ever said anything that sexy to me, and no one has gone down on me purely because they want to—because they wantme—that badly.
