The brush of his mouth there ignited every nerve ending in her body.
“Then moving here.” He dragged his lips along her cheekbone to the column of her throat.
She made a gurgling noise because words weren’t really happening then.
“How far down do you want me to go?” he asked, nipping at her earlobe as he spoke.
“All the way.” Of this, she was certain. “All the way down.”
He ran an arm around her waist as he kissed his way down her body. Down the column of her throat, to the top of her chest where her T-shirt met skin. Stopping briefly at her breasts and pressing open-mouthed kisses over her shirt to her nipples.
This was so much better than arguing.
He spent a lot more attention there than she’d expected, sucking her through the cotton fabric. Hoo boy, did that feel nice. Maybe he needed to work on his dirty-talk game, but he definitely had the oral-fixation game down.
The pressure between her legs continued to grow and build with each suck and nip.
She held him by the hair, tossing her own head back as he continued to tongue her through the wet cotton.
As his mouth worked her, his hand slid between her legs, and she was his. There was no doubt about that.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked her chest.
“Mm-hmm.” She made affirmative noises, since she couldn’t exactly form coherent syllables at the moment.
“I won’t do that,” he said, still working her with his hand, his mouth against hers now.
“Why?” she asked on another croak.
“Because you’re not a quick fuck, Court.”
“I could be.” What? Well, she could, and why did she love it so much when he used that word like this?
“No.” He continued working her with his fingers. “But I’ll go down on you until you beg me to stop.”
“I won’t ask you to stop.” She ground herself against his palm between her thighs, the pressure nearly peaking.
His hand still working her over her shorts, he took her mouth. Pressed her body against his—wet nipples against cotton, his palm against her sex, and a trip up orgasm mountain.
He slid his fingers inside her shorts, finally touching her with no fabric between them. His fingers worked their magic, brushing against the pulsing bundle of nerves.
She moaned.
He groaned. Slipped two fingers inside as his palm continued to work against her sweet spot.
“Come for me,” he said as a command. “Come on my hand.”
She didn’t really have a choice then, because he did a gentle pinch and flick that took her right there.
She pressed her face against his neck, letting him absorb the noises as she finished with only his hand. Did she snort? Maybe. She was a little out of it, and it’d been a very long time since she had this type of attention.
Bax held her against him, his erection pressing against her thigh through his jeans. She continued breathing hard, letting the scent of him—sandalwood and rain and musk—invade her space. She gripped his shoulders for support, even though he didn’t seem to have any intention of letting her go.
“That was…” she said against the column of his neck. “Thank you.”
He grunted something that sounded like “You’re welcome” and “My pleasure” wrapped up in one word.
His erection twitched. She totally owed him. Seeing that he’d given her what she needed, and given that his erection was ready to rip through his jeans, she ran her hand down to cup him.
