How could she ever give up being kissed like this? How had she ever lived without it? She almost felt sorry for the past version of herself, who was regularly willing to blow up her life for chemistry one-tenth this incendiary.
They hadn’t had time for much beyond a few stolen, heated kisses since last week at his house, and it already felt like she was discovering him all over again: the ripple of muscle where his shoulder met his upper back, the strength of his hands gripping her bare thighs, the way his breath went ragged when she reached under his shirt and grazed her nails down his back.
And, of course, there was still so much they hadn’t discovered—a thought that made her dizzy with want.
“This dress,” he murmured, his voice as rough as the palms sliding beneath her hem.
“I wore it for you.” She drew her hands from beneath his shirt, hooking an arm around his neck, pulling herself closer, denim scraping her inner thighs.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Her breath caught as he hitched up one of her knees, repositioning her until she was straddling him. As soon as she was seated flush against him, a small noise escaping her throat at the sensation, his hands were exploring again—her thighs, her ass, and coming to grip her waist, the skirt bunched up and pooling around his arms.
“Never thought I’d get to take it off you.”
She lifted her arms above her head to help him out, and hepulled it off slowly, like he was savoring every new inch of skin revealed. When he tossed it over his shoulder, his eyes swept over her, hands following in their wake.
“Hold on,” he said, and she didn’t realize he meant it literally until he was tilting her backward. She kept her arms around his neck, as he’d instructed, while he laid her flat on her back, then pulled away gently, getting unsteadily to his feet and walking over to the lamp. He picked it up and brought it back over to her, putting it down as close as the cord would allow, tilting the shade back to better illuminate her bare skin.
She felt lit up from the inside, too, desperate for him to touch her, forced to settle for the hungry way he was looking at her, the rough edge to his voice when he spoke.
“How slow are we taking it tonight, do you think?”
Merritt didn’t respond, just arched her back, reaching behind her to flick open the clasp of her bra and slip it off.
His eyes darkened, and he was on her in an instant, muttering something under his breath in Greek as he gathered her close, her bare limbs wrapping around his clothed ones, his mouth finding hers again, kissing her with newfound intention, hot and deep and clearly on the edge of losing control. Her hands fumbled with the hem of his shirt.
“You need to get rid of—ah!” She sucked in a breath when his mouth found her nipple, her hands faltering as raw sensation shot straight to her core, then again when he gently bit the soft underside of her breast.
He leaned back on his heels, pulling his shirt over his head in one quick motion, and she sat up to help him with his belt.
“Wait,” he said, his breathing heavy. “Do we have a condom?”
Merritt groaned. “Oh,fuck. Shit. I don’t even have any at my place.” Every time she’d dropped by the grocery store orpharmacy that week, she’d taken stock of who’d been working the register, and each time it had been someone who definitely would’ve raised an eyebrow.
Cockblocked by small-town charm and lack of self-checkout.
“I have some, but let me go check my truck first,” he said, and stood up again, this time with even more difficulty. Merritt’s racing heart still hadn’t calmed by the time he returned, holding the foil square between his fingers.
He knelt back next to her, pants still half-unbuttoned, and she reached for his zipper.
“You just had that stashed in there?” she teased. “How many people have you defiled in that truck? I’m starting to not feel special.”
He placed a hand on hers, stilling her progress, then tilted her chin up to kiss her tenderly on the lips. “Merritt,” he said gravely, his eyes dark and burning. “I don’t think I understood the meaning of that word until I met you.”
She held his gaze for a long moment, her heart fluttering like a trapped hummingbird. It had been a long time since she’d felt this naked in front of someone. She’d been so caught up in worrying about all the ways she might bruise him, it had taken her too long to understand the power he had to bruise her, too.
There was no one else she’d rather give the honor.
She sat up on her knees, helping him shimmy out of his jeans, then pulled him back on top of her, all that smooth, golden skin finally pressed against all of hers. They rolled around on the blankets, groping and grinding, restless and heated, him moaning when she licked the hollow of his throat, her gasping as he sucked a hickey onto the swell of her breast.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore.
“I need you, Niko,” she murmured, pushing him onto his back and straddling him, dragging herself down the length ofhim, making him groan and grab her hips, matching her motion, the friction sending a bolt of white-hot pleasure through her. Then, suddenly, she was on her back again, his hand cupping her between her legs.
“Are you sure you’re ready for me?” The husky taunt in his voice was a side of him she’d barely seen, and she arched into his touch with a needy moan.
They both gasped when he pushed her underwear to the side and slid two fingers into her, his jaw going slack when he was met with no resistance, just slick heat. “Fuck,” he said, his voice hoarse, his gaze locked on the slow pump of his fingers in and out.
