A week ago, in the evening, she surprised me when she slipped up to me, lifted herself onto tiptoes, and pressed her lips to mine, her hands sliding under my shirt.
“I’d like to do more than sleep,” she whispered.
I caught her hands and made a vow to her within my mind, making sure she could hear it:I want to know your moods and your needs before I know your body.
“Suit yourself.” She gave me a sultry smile, slipped out of her shirt and bra, and dropped them onto the floor behind her as she sauntered away from me toward the shower, making it damn hard for me to keep my word.
Now, I pad across the living area to the bedroom to find her sitting upright in bed, her red hair tangled around her face.
“Morning,” I say, heading across the room and removing my shirt, nearly at the bathroom door when she arrests me.
“Striker?”
I turn immediately, responding to the urgency in her voice. “What’s wrong?”
As I speak, I take another look at her, searching for signs of distress, but she looks relaxed.
She slips off the bed, her T-shirt caught up around her waist, under which she’s only wearing underpants, but I keep my gaze on her face.
“Do you know my moods yet?” she asks, her eyes searching mine when she reaches me.
I relax a little. “Some of them.”
“What about my needs?”
“Likewise.”
Her brow furrows. “Do you know enough of them?”
“Enough for… what?”
She levitates up to my eye level. It’s the first time she’s done this since arriving here. Her fingertips brush my bare shoulders, and she doesn’t seem to care about the sweat.
“Enough,” she says.
“Enoughenough?” I ask.
“Yes.”
“Doyouthink I know enough?”
She gives a sudden, breathtaking smile. “Can we find out?”
I wait for my heart to catch up, and she doesn’t hurry me, her eyes bright as she studies me, no doubt listening to my thoughts.
“I love feeling your thoughts,” she says. “They’re full of life.”
I reach out for her, drawing her toward me, her body floating through the small gap between us. Her legs wrap around my hips, her body weightless against me as one of her hands slips to the back of my neck and rests there.
For a moment, my thoughts get away from me, taken by the intensity of the pleasure I gain just from holding her, the sensation of her pelvis pressed to mine and her breasts against my chest, the feeling of her lips close to mine, and then all of that giving way to my need to dispense with her clothing, to draw moans to her lips?—
She gasps, her lips parting and her body trembling against me. “Oh,” she whispers. “More.”
My eyes widen, and I can’t hold back my thoughts, the way I want to tip her onto the bed, push up her shirt, take her nipples into my mouth one after the other, and stroke her between her legs until she comes?—
She jolts against me, her breathing fast, and I don’t stop, letting my thoughts go, picturing the way I want to reverse our positions and lift her up on top of me, have her settle herself onto my length, and rock against me as fast or as slowly as she likes.
She moans into my ear, her body shivering, her thighs clenching against my sides, and her hand tightening across the back of my neck.
