Can I even act upset?
Talk about a blue ball tease.
He looks at me expectantly, but I don’t say anything, turning my back to him to get out the other side of the hot tub so he doesn’t see my hard-on.
I dry off and find him still watching, but I pretend not to notice, focusing on getting my dick to cooperate.
It almost feels like we’re playing chicken. Does he want me to admit I want him to kiss me?
“What do you want to do?” I sway a little, realizing how drunk I am now that I’m on my feet.
His dark eyes meet mine, and he puts his massive hand at the base of my throat while his other grabs my jaw, dragging me to him. But it’s not aggressive. It’s soft and intimate before he’s even kissed me.
His lips barely brush mine.
I want more, and I’m worried that’s all he’ll do. Like we’re true chaste catholic boys.
But he doesn’t stop there. His lips part over mine, barely, and I taste a hint of the vodka we’ve been drinking. His hand slides around to the back of my head, and he deepens the kiss, skimming his tongue between my lips. I part for him, opening more than I ever should let myself. He tastes of cherries, Dr. Pepper, and laughter.
It’s not slow for long. He invades every part of me, and I shouldn’t be surprised. Wolfe takes over everything always. It’s impossible not to let him. He’s demanding and all-consuming, and then he softens, stroking and luring me to him while his grip on me remains as hard as my dick.
His thumb strokes down my throat, reminding me his hands are on me too. Fire erupts every place he touches, licking over my skin. He’s the best kisser I’ve experienced. He’s impossible to fight, so I give into him, letting him lead.
No wonder every woman in Manhattan wants him. It’s not right for him to be so hot, talented, and amazing in bed. If he’s this good with his tongue in my mouth—I stop the thought in its tracks.
I grab onto him, needing to steady myself as I get lightheaded. He groans into my mouth, and I feel like a teenager again. I’ve never been so turned on. If he touched my cock, I’d probably come instantly.
By the time we break, he’s delicate, barely there, slipping another soft brush against my lips.
Then he’s gone. He releases me, and I’m left reeling with the best kiss I’ve ever experienced and the guy standing right in front of me that I can’t have.
“Fuck.”
“Does that mean I did okay?” He’s so smug, and I wish I didn’t find it as hot as I do because it makes me want him that much more.
“You’re fucking great in the kissing department,” I murmur, still dazed and barely thinking straight. “I don’t think anyone will doubt it.”
“It felt pretty solid. Maybe I can do better….”
“Hmm?” I close my eyes, trying to focus on anything but wanting to kiss him again. “Umm. You might have to do it a few more times so I can get used to it, or I might give us away.”
“You do look a little…stunned.” He waves a hand in front of my face.
I nod, not even bothering to try playing it off. “Stunned is a good word for it.”
“You really need to find better people to kiss if that one took you out. I don’t even do it that much.”
“You must be right.” Because I’ve never been kissed like that in my entire fucking life. When my best friend gives me more passion in a fake kiss than a guy who’s into me, what does that say about the guys I’ve been seeing?
“I told you those guys don’t deserve you.”
“Well, those girls don’t deserve you,” I counter, shaking my head to clear it.
“That’s the point. I can’t fall for one again.” Wolfe’s words hit me in the heart, but he doesn’t stay to talk them out. “Let’s go get dressed and put on a movie or something until we fall asleep.”
Before I can reply, he saunters off down the stairs, and I have to remind myself how to use my legs to follow.
We go to our respective rooms, and I press my back to the door, still trying to breathe. I slide my hands into my shorts, gripping my cock. My hard-on throbs.
