Chloe opens the front door and her mouth parts into a perfect little O. Her eyes momentarily drop to my forearms as I grip the knot of the tie at the base of my neck and give it a little tug.
“I like your outfit,” she says.
My gaze travels down her little pink T-shirt, over her sliver of skin that's peeking out above her sleep shorts, and down her toned legs. “I like yours better.”
She drops her head, trying to hide her smile before holding her arm out, gesturing for me to come in.
A small lamp hovers over a candle on the entertainment stand, acting as the only light in the otherwise dark apartment.
“How was the game?” she asks.
“We lost.”
“Oh.”
I turn to face her, shrugging off my suit jacket. “They were better.”
She twists her fingers, cracking her knuckles, but she doesn’t look away. I can tell she’s nervous, and when she doesn’t say anything else, I say, “I wanted to talk to you about last night.”
She strums her bottom lip, eyes falling to the floor between us.
“I wanted to apologize,” I say.
She looks up, sharply. “Don’t apologize.”
A slow smile spreads across my face.
“I mean… I—I wanted to…I wanted you to,” she fumbles for the words, and I take a step closer, because even though she’s cute when she’s flustered, that's not what tonight is about.
“Okay, well, that was last night,” I say, sliding my hand between hers, and lacing our fingers together. Her shoulders relax instantly, like just the touch of my hand is enough to fix things. I turn, pushing open the door to her bedroom. “Tonight, let's do something I want.”
There are no candles or light from a TV in her room. Only the moon shining through the wall of widows, basking her in its glow. I stop when she’s standing at the edge of her bed, and she looks up at me.
“What do you want?” she asks.
I run my fingers through her hair, cupping her neck at the end, and she shudders when I drop my lips to her ear. “You.”
She swallows hard, and her eyes flick back up to mine. I guide her backward toward the bed, feeling the subtle pull of her hand against mine.
Once she’s seated, I let my hands slide to her waist, and the warmth of her skin seeps into my palms. I lift them slowly, inch by inch, pausing only when I reach her breasts and feel nothing but bare skin. I look into her eyes, a silentquestion, one she answers by lifting her arms above her head. I peel the fabric away, tossing it blindly over my shoulder, never once breaking eye contact.
She bites down on her bottom lip, nervous in a way that somehow only makes her more beautiful. Her fingers twist together in her lap, and whether intentional or not, the movement causes her breasts to press together. They’re a generous handful, and her pebbled nipples are the exact shade of pink I imagined them to be.
“Lie back.”
Without hesitancy, she sinks into the mattress. Her hands hover over her chest, not completely covering them, but not quite brave enough to let them fall away either.
“Arms up,” I murmur.
Her pink tipped fingers trail across the sheets, disappearing under a pillow above her head. The stretch pulls her long beneath me, opening her up in a way that nearly steals the breath from my lungs. I let my eyes take their time, moving over her slowly, letting her feel the weight of my attention tracing over every inch of her.
“Are you always this good, Chloe?”
Her thighs press together, just a fraction, small enough that if I wasn’t watching her so closely I might have missed it.
A slow grin curls at the corner of my mouth becauseof course she likes being praised.
I brace one arm onto the mattress beside her and guide the hand resting on her chest into mine. My lips find her shoulder first, and as I pull her hand away, I feel the hitch in her breath before I hear it. I shift my weight, letting my mouth follow the curves of her body, and press a kiss to the top of her breast.
