Oh God. “You’re, ah, really hard.”
Red tinged his cheekbones. “I wasn’t until I landed on top of you.” Was he a bit defensive?
A nervous giggle erupted from her chest. “I wasn’t accusing you of anything.” Then the thought of what she would have been accusing him caught her breath in her chest. “I mean, I could see you behind the curtain. Your hands were up by your head.” She had to stop talking. Right now. “Your big head—not the other one. You know. At the top of your shoulders.”
She was a moron. A dumbass. Her mouth would never stop.
“Quit talking.” He chuckled, amusement lighting his eyes.
“I’m trying,” she said.
“Try this.” Then his mouth covered hers. Warm and male. She had time for one thought. Oh holy hell, Hugh Johnson was kissing her. Actuallykissingher.
Then she forgot how to think.
His lips were firm, his movements slow and seeking. Investigating and oh-so-damn tempting. He explored her gently, in control, teasing and stroking. He went deeper, his muscled body pressing her into the floor, his hands at either side of her head and his mouth destroying hers.
Her entire body flashed wild and alive, and an aching need centered in her sex. Finally, he lifted his head, pleasure darkening his spectacular eyes.
The rumors about him in college were true. Beyond true. Hugh could kiss. Really, really kiss. She swallowed, her chest panting against his much harder one. “You can kiss,” she murmured.
His lips tipped. “So can you. I always figured we’d be like this.”
What was this? Hot and bothered? Needy? She wrapped her hands over his soapy shoulders, letting ripped muscle fill her palms. A soft hum escaped her as she caressed his chest, finally giving in to curiosity and need from so long ago. “I’m on the pill, Hugh.”
He hitched against her, and his dick pressed more insistently against her sex. “You blurt out everything in your mind, don’t you?”
She nodded. “I’m not much of a game player.”
“Ditto.” He kissed her again, his chest rubbing against her hardened nipples. “I don’t have condoms, but I’m clean. Have to get a physical every year for work.”
“Me too.” She finally let her hands roam free down his back to slide over his very nice ass.
He grinned and rolled over, bringing her on top of him. “I don’t want to crush you.”
Unfortunately, he was so soapy she kept right on going and rolled onto the floor, hitting her back against the cold tub.
He winced, reaching for her shoulders. “All right. I’m on top.” Then he covered her again.
Warmth surrounded her. Those words. Those silly, simple words. She wanted them. So she widened her legs, lifting her knees on either side of his. “How about we do this really quickly before one of us breaks something?”
He lifted his head. His blue eyes studied her—full of want and amusement. His hair fell onto his forehead, his still soapy forehead, giving him the look of a rogue. “I can give you fast right now, but then we’re taking the night in the bed. The entire fucking night.” His dick pressed between her legs as if in perfect agreement.
“Deal,” she said, leaning up to kiss him hard on the mouth.
He pushed inside her, going slowly, letting her body accept him.
“Man, you’re big,” she whispered as her internal walls stretched.
He barked out a pained laugh, setting his forehead against hers. “Don’t make me laugh. This might be over too quickly if you do.”
She really didn’t want that. So she bit her tongue. And then, miracle of all miracles, dream of all dreams…Hugh Johnson was fully inside her.
Finally.
Chapter Six
This is the worst time in the history of the world, or at least in my life, to start something up. But Ellie Mae Smithers is one of a kind. Can we keep it casual? Is that the fates laughing? Damn it.
