“Good.”
“Why good?”
He leaned in again and brushed his lips across the smile tugging at the corner of hers. “Because make-up sex is my favorite thing.”
Then he pulled her against him and kissed her for real. Desire spread through her like a potent liqueur, leaving her body weakened and willing, and her saner self in jeopardy. She broke the kiss. “Mitch, we can’t keep doing this.”
“Then stop enticing me.”
“Idon’t.”
“Youdo. You don’t play fair. If you want me to leave you alone, stop wearing this face, this hair.” He threaded his fingers through it. “Stop looking at me through those eyes and, for god’s sake, do something about those legs that I mistakenly thought went on forever. They don’t,” he purred. “Last night, I discovered where they led, and… oh my, it was good.”
She made a whimpering sound and went along when he took her hand and led her over to one of the ugly chintz armchairs. He sat down, gathered up her slim skirt until it was bunched around her waist, and pulled her astride his lap. Several drugging kisses later, he reached for the hem of her borrowed top and began pulling it up.
“No,” she said, glancing toward the bedroom door. “What if Andrew wakes up?”
“He won’t. He’s out. Besides, if he caught us, he wouldn’tknow what we’re doing.”
“Iwould know.”
“Okay, leave the top on. That almost makes it dirtier, and dirty sex is my second favorite thing.” He reached beneath the borrowed top and unhooked her bra. Sliding his hands back to her front, he cupped her breasts and tweaked her nipples between his fingers.
Then he ducked his head beneath the top and took her nipple into his mouth. Each tug caused a reaction down low where she was open to him. He felt it, too, and soon they were breathing swiftly and rubbing against each other lustily.
He brought his head out from under her top, hastily unbuttoned his jeans, and worked them down. When the waistband got past the hilt of Excalibur, her breath hitched at the sight of his erection.
He grinned and said, “Up,” as he helped her to stand on her knees. It wasn’t graceful, but, working together, they managed to get her panties off.
Before her knees folded, he kept her upright and nuzzled her, breathing her in, and exhaling in soft, humid puffs that caused flutters of sensation on her skin as well as within. His tongue flicked against her cleft, then went deeper, seeking the ultimate pleasure point and finding it.
He didn’t stop until she came, and the instant he felt it, he bracketed her hips between his strong hands and lowered her onto him. He held her secure there, one with him, and kissed her mouth with uncontested passion and possessiveness.
He released her hips only long enough to remove her top and bra after all. “No way are you going to ride me and me not get to watch.”
He rubbed his face against her breasts, his scruff delightfullyscratchy, his mouth damp and ardent. His hands returned to her bottom and initiated a rocking motion, their give-and-take movements in perfect sync. Her sensitized flesh drew on his until she felt another climax about to claim her. She bore down even as he pushed up.
And what happened simultaneously between them then wasn’t a culmination. It was an awakening.
As the ecstasy of it ebbed, they sagged against each other and held fast. After his breathing returned to near normal, he eased her away so he could pull off his T-shirt. Craving to be skin to skin with him, she helped.
Then he placed his arms around her, splayed his hands over the middle of her back, and drew her to him. He settled his bowed head on her breasts. She felt her heartbeat beneath his rough cheek.
Still inside her, his breath hot on her skin, he whispered, “Dylan, you are the last thing I expected.”
She folded her arms around his head, and buried her face in his mussed hair. “I didn’t expect you, either.”
Chapter 35
Mitch’s Friday had begun very early and had ended late, and all the events during the day had been physically exhausting and emotionally draining.
Nevertheless, he hadn’t slept well or long and now lay staring at the ceiling and thinking that the timing couldn’t be worse for Andrew to be with him indefinitely.
Today, as he played with Andrew, listened to his chatter and laughter, even during his tantrum, he’d begun nursing a heart-stopping fear that his son might somehow get on Roland Malone’s radar.
Malone would remember the infant he’d left alive on the night he’d killed Angela, a decision he might regret and wish to rectify. It made Mitch ill even to think of it.
So now, in addition to Dylan’s safety, he had Andrew’s to worry about.
