Those same hands travel down my back and slide up underneath my polo. My skin breaks out in a blanket of goosebumps.
As our kiss grows heated, Calvin removes a hand and cups my jaw. Now, he’s the one controlling the kiss. Our tongues are fighting for dominance, and our breathing grows heavier, mingled with groans.
When he pulls away, his teeth graze my bottom lip before letting go.
“I like the way you kiss,” he says.
“You’re not too bad yourself.”
“Tsh, I’m thebestkisser.”
“Arrogant much?”
“Not arrogant enough. Tell me I’m wrong.”
I huff a laugh and shake my head at him. My fingers drag along his firm chest and abs. “You’re not wrong. I had fun last night, by the way. That was a first for me.”
“You were fucking hot.”
My face flushes like always, but I’ve gotten used to it around him, though he never teases me about it. Honestly, it’s surprising since he teases me about everything. “I want more of that… well, in person,” I tell him.
“You can have whatever you want.”
“I hate to be a bore, but we’ll have to move this into my bedroom. I don’t want to send my kids to therapy if they catch us fooling around.”
An embarrassing yelp escapes me when Calvin abruptly stands and takes me with him.
“I’m not a child, Joker.”
“Thank god for that. What? You don’t like me carrying you? It’s not hot?”
“Maybe it’s kind of hot.”
“I promise, I won’t tell a soul.”
He hefts me up so he has a better hold. “Grab the monitor, would you?” He leans me down a bit until I can snag the video camera.
“Which way to your room?” he asks as we head toward the stairs.
“It’s right there at the top of the stairs.”
He heftsme again and grunts. “Oof, you’re heavy.”
“Well, you chose to carry me. Put me down, then.”
“Not on your life.”
“We just need to keep the noise down.”
“I’ll be a perfectly quiet lover.”
Calvin uses his butt to bump my partially open door wide, then walks into my room. He drops me onto the bed, where I bounce before reaching over to set the monitor on my nightstand. He yanks his T-shirt off, exposing miles of defined abs over lightly tanned skin. I’m nowhere near as defined, but I try not to feel insecure about it. My life is too busy to work out all the time. The best I can do is go for a run periodically.
He locks my bedroom door and comes to rest a knee on the bed, but before he can lie on top of me, I sit up, itching to touch him. My fingers travel along firm ridges and smooth skin. He watches me explore him, not with expected smugness, though he means nothing by it, but with curiosity and heated green eyes.
“You’re so hot,” I whisper.
“Not bad for almost being forty, eh?”
