“It’s been a while for me too,” I added, because it only seemed fair since she was being vulnerable.
Her brows rose, her gaze sharp and skeptical. “I don’t believe you.”
I shrugged. “Believe it. Tori, I’m a hotshot firefighter. I just moved here a little while ago, and I live with my mom because I help take care of her, because she has health issues.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” Tori cut in.
“No need to be sorry. She’s okay. She just needs a little help, and I’m happy to do it. That wasn’t really something I had to think about. All this to say, I don’t have much time.”
She angled her head to the side. “You’re a good man, Kincaid. Do you need to let your mom know where you are?”
“Now?” A startled laugh sputtered out of me. “No, I don’t. She knows I’m at the fundraiser and that’s enough. She’ll watch her favorite shows on her TV in her bedroom in the in-law apartment that she stays in. It’s built off the side of the main house because that’s what she wanted, and she won’t worry about where I am because that’s not her style.”
“Oh, oh,” Tori said. I could practically see her brain trying to sort all of these details into her mental idea of me.
“Are we done with this conversation?” I asked after silence fell again and began to stretch.
She nodded quickly. “Yes, we are.”
“Now, where were we?” I murmured.
Chapter Fourteen
Tori
Now, where were we?
Kincaid’s voice alone was enough to send a hot shiver down my spine. But with him standing here in my bedroom, every inch of his muscular body close was the equivalent of human catnip.
He took a step closer, and I reflexively stepped back, mostly because the force of his presence was so intense. My hips bumped into the bed. He leaned forward, resting his hands on either side of me, caging me between his arms.
“Now, I want you to forget everything except how good you feel,” he murmured, his voice rumbly and gruff, sizzling over my nerves. “Don’t hesitate to tell me what you want, to tell me what you like.”
My belly did a little swoop, and I all but melted right there. Sex had been “meh” for the most part for me. Okay was the best I could offer for my past experiences, nothing great, nothing to write home about.
Usually, the beginning felt better and then, well, it was like the womp-womp-womp sound in a movie when something failed to live up to expectations, or when a scene ended in benign disappointment. I didn’t even know how to say what I wanted because, well, that wasn’t something that had ever worked out.
All I could manage to do was nod. Kincaid straightened again, lifting a hand and hooking his finger over at the V at the top of my blouse. I could feel the brush of his knuckle against my skin, the subtle touch like the lick of a flame.
“Let’s get this out of the way,” he murmured.
In that moment, I decided, because I wasn’t sure what else to do, to just abandon myself to this process. I felt safe with Kincaid. Although that detail was slightly terrifying for a corner of my mind and heart, I clung to it. I didn’t want to overthink. I didn’t want to let my brain get in the way.
Kincaid began to unwrap me like a present. He moved in increments, one button at a time on my blouse, his lips brushing over my skin, nipping at an earlobe, teasing on the side of my neck. He dropped hot kisses after each button came undone and revealed another small patch of skin until the last kiss landed just above the waistband of my skirt.
In this moment, my clothing felt constricting. I wanted to throw everything off, get everything out of the way. Each kiss was like a drop of scalding hot honey on my skin, the heat radiating outward in slow motion. He straightened, his dark eyes burning into mine as I stood there in my bra and skirt.
He startled me when he dipped his head, and his mouth closed over a nipple through the silky lace of my bra. The hot shock of it drew a cry from my mouth. He lifted his head, a wicked gleam in his eyes, just as he reached between my breasts. With a deft twist, he released the clasp on my bra.
My breath was short, my brain lightheaded from the lack of oxygen, and I cried out again when he teased my other nipple. The next few moments passed in a hazy blur.
He started slow, but by the time he peeled my skirt off and I stumbled as I kicked them free from my ankles, the look in his eyes was as wild and untethered as mine. I yanked at his shirt, and he reached behind his head to lift it up and over swiftly without even unbuttoning it.
I let out a sigh of relief when he stepped close, and I could finally feel his bare skin hot under my touch, his hardness against my softness. I let my hands explore the muscled planes of his chest, smoothing over his abs before clasping around his back to feel his corded strength there.
He stepped back, and I almost cried out in protest, but he said, “Just a sec,” as he pulled his wallet out of his back pocket, moving quickly before tossing a condom on the bed.
A moment later, I impatiently undid the buttons of his fly. He gave me an assist, stumbling as I shoved his jeans down around his hips. His chuckle was low, and almost wondering, when his eyes lifted to mine.
