We’ve made it halfway down the hall when he pulls me to a stop. “If this is heading where I think it is, won’t it make things more complicated?”
His concerned expression doesn’t quite hide his dilated pupils or the heavy breathing that matches my own. He wants this as much as I do. Despite the lust fog clouding my brain, I seem to recall some of my wise words from a few minutes ago being something along the lines of ‘sometimes complicated isn’t the worst thing’. “I just want to be with you. If that’s what you want…”
He makes a sound somewhere between a loud exhale and a laugh. “God, yes.” In one quick movement, he scoops me off the floor. I hook my legs around his waist, laughing breathlessly as he carries me the rest of the way to my room. He nudges the door open with his foot, and I swallow a startled cry when my eyes land on the two glowing orbs peering at us from the middle of my bed.
“Just Fiddlesticks,” Hugh says, his chest and shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter. I bury my face in his neck, glad it’s too dark for him to see my face, which I’m sure is bright red.
“I forgot about my own cat. She usually hangs out wherever I am.” I raise my head and watch Fiddlesticks stretch languidly before hopping to the floor. She stops at Hugh’s feet and sniffs him, then scurries from the room. I swear that animal is telepathic; she knows now isn’t the time for snuggles or playing. I’ll have to remember to give her extra treats tomorrow. But for now…
I meet Hugh’s smiling eyes. “Where were we?” he asks.
I shimmy down his long, hard body—hard everywhere, I notice with barely-suppressed glee—and land on my feet. As much as I liked him carrying me, I want his hands free to do other things. He grips my hips and I wrap my arms around his neck again, pulling him to me and resuming our passionate kisses.
Hugh’s hands release my hips to slide under the front of my shirt, caressing my bare skin. I tremble under his touch. It takes all my willpower not to push his hand lower. I’m a girl who enjoys foreplay before the main act, but right now I’d like to strip us both naked and jump into bed.
Hugh’s exploring hands tell me he’s in no hurry to rush things. His rough fingers glide over my stomach and move around to my back, pausing at the band of my bra. My breath hitches. Just as I think he’s going to unhook it, his hands slip out from under my shirt. I let out an involuntary sound of distress that makes him look far too pleased.
“Can I…” He motions toward the lamp beside my bed. Faint light from outside filters between the crack in my curtains, illuminating the room enough to make out Hugh’s face, but not much more. “I want to see you,” he says. “All of you.”
How can I say no to that? I nod and he flicks on the lamp, casting the room is a soft yellow glow. The second he returns, his hands bunch the hem of my shirt—hisshirt—and lift it over my head.
“You’re not getting that shirt back, just FYI,” I tell him.
“It’s yours. Looks better on you anyway.”
I’m about to say I don’t know about that, but I’m struck speechless when he starts unbuttoning his own shirt. I watch, practically salivating as his skin is revealed inch by inch. My hands are on him as soon as the last button is free. A dusting of dark hair covers his broad chest. The other guys I’ve been with have all been mostly hairless, whether natural or not, which has led me to being indifferent to hairy chests. Until now. It fits with Hugh’s whole rugged Scotsman look, and I swear I get weak in the knees as my hands wander, following the trail that tapers down his belly and disappears under his jeans.
Hugh watches me with patient amusement as I touch every inch of his chest. The faint smile around his lips wavers when I lean forward to press my lips right over his heart. I meet his now-serious eyes before leaning in again to kiss a trail across his skin, stopping when I reach his left nipple. He tenses slightly. I’m not a body language expert, but I think that means his chest is a sensitive area. Testing my theory, I lean forward and close my mouth around his nipple, suppressing a smile when he gasps and grips my upper arms tightly.
“Ivy,” he growls.
I straighten, meeting his eyes. “Yes?” I ask innocently.
He lets out a shaky laugh, releasing me to run a hand roughly through his hair. When he doesn’t say anything else, I lift my hands to his chest again, watching his eyes darken as my fingers skim over his nipples. His breathing quickens, and he swallows audibly. He growls again, this time in the back of his throat as I lean in to capture his other nipple between my teeth.
His hands return to my upper arms. I’m not sure which of us is more turned on by this. My clit is starting to throb, and I feel a sense of power I’ve never felt in the bedroom before. Hearing his labored breathing and feeling the tension in his body, knowing what I’m doing to this big, strong man is such a turn on. He’s letting his guard down, giving me control. It’s sexy as hell.
The minute I release his nipple, he pulls me up and covers my mouth with his. His hands move to the clasp of my bra; after some fiddling, the hook finally comes free. The material falls away, and his mouth leaves mine so he can look at me. His hungry gaze moves over me, his eyes meeting mine at the same moment his hands cup my breasts.
I briefly wonder if I’m about to experience payback for the erotic torture I just put him through. All thoughts flee my mind when he bends to kiss my breasts. Still cupping them, his lips brush the top of one, then trail across my chest until he reaches the other. I gasp when his grip suddenly shifts and his hot, wet mouth meets my sensitive skin. He sucks my nipple into his mouth. My short, gasping breaths elevate to a cry as his teeth graze my skin. His tongue and teeth are doing magical things, all while his hand does its own magic on my other breast. If he doesn’t soon turn his attention south, my knees are going to buckle and I’ll become a boneless puddle on the floor.
He must sense this because he raises his head to meet my eyes, his own eyes gleaming. He straightens, lifting me into his arms and depositing me gently on the bed. I scramble back toward my pillows, wriggling out of my jeans as I go. He watches from the side of the bed, his eyes lingering on the pale blue lace thong covering me. My own gaze moves to his hands when they start working the buckle of his belt, then the button and zipper on his jeans. He pushes them down and steps free, kicking them aside. I hold my breath when his fingers clasp his boxer briefs, ready and eager for the big reveal.
His hands freeze, and I nearly howl in frustration. “I didn’t…I don’t—”
Somehow my lust-muddled brain deciphers his meaning. I motion toward my bedside table. “In there.”
He practically flings open the drawer.Oh shit. I have a sudden vision of throwing my vibrator in that drawer the other night instead of tucking it into the second drawer like I usually do. The grin on Hugh’s face gives me my answer. He lifts the small pink device from the drawer and holds it up.
“Did I mention I’ve been single for a long time?”
His smile grows. “No judgment from me. I imagine I’ll spend many a cold, lonely winter night back home imagining you using this. As long as you’re picturing me.”
Considering that’s what I’ve been doing for the past several weeks, it’s safe to say I’ll continue doing just that once Hugh is gone. For now I have the real thing, and my need has reached peak levels. “Condoms,” I say. “Now. Hurry.”
His eyebrows arch, lips pressing together to hide a smile. The vibrator goes back in the drawer and he takes a condom from the brand new box. Instead of replacing the box like I expect him to, he sets it on top of the nightstand.
“I like how you think,” I tell him. He rewards me with a crooked grin. I rise up on my knees and crawl to the edge of the bed, stopping in front of him. He meets me with feather-light kisses to my lips. My fingers hook in the elastic band of his underwear, and he lets me pull them down. His cock springs free, and I have to swallow a gleeful titter at the sight of it. This is going to besomuch better than any vibrator.
