Her fingers curled into the muscle at the top of my shoulders. I opened for her, and her tongue slid against mine with a confidence that made my brain short-circuit. I had to dig my fingertips into her hips to stop myself from doing something stupid like flipping her onto her back.
She whimpered, and I deepened the kiss, tilting my head to get more of her. Her hands moved into my hair, tugging enough to send heat down my spine.
I broke the kiss and moved to her neck, dragging my lips along the line of her jaw and then down to where her pulse was hammering beneath her skin. She tilted her head to the side, giving me more access, and I took it, kissing and tasting her skin.
“I haven’t been turned on in a long time.” She said it as if she were admitting she was broken and bracing for my reaction.
I didn’t say anything. I waited because the way the words came out told me there was more, and I needed to hear it before I opened my mouth.
She bit her lip. “I don’t know if it was all the stress with my ex and the money stuff, or if it’s hormones, or both. But I haven’t really thought about sex in a while.” She hesitated. “Like at least six months. Maybe even a year. I don’t even know if I can…”
That hit me sideways. I blinked at her, processing what she was saying while my dragon was still roaring in my skull. “Sex isn’t important to me.”
Her gaze dropped pointedly to where she was sitting directly on the evidence, and she gave me a skeptical look.
I laughed despite myself. “Okay, yes, it is. But it’s not an end-all-be-all thing. If you’re not feeling it, or if I do something that turns you off, you can tell me. Or if I need to use anything special, just tell me.”
She stared at me for a few seconds, and then her expression softened. She leaned in and kissed me again.
This time, it was hungrier.
She shifted her hips forward, the friction making me groan into her mouth. She did it again, the pressure dragging along the full length of me through the sweatpants.
My fingers moved up from her waist, finding the zipper of her jacket and dragging it down. I slid my hands under the hem of her shirt, and the feel of her warm, soft skin made me even harder.
Her breath hitched as my thumbs traced the underside of her ribs, and she set a slow, rocking grind that built friction and heat between us.
“Fuck,” I breathed against her mouth.
My mouth found her neck again, and she tipped her head back, her breath coming in short, uneven bursts.
Her fingers dug into my shoulders. “Don’t stop doing that.”
I moved my hands higher, tracing the curve of her waist, and she arched into the touch and shivered.
I cupped her breasts through her bra and pulled the padded fabric down enough to brush my thumbs over her nipples. She gasped.
I circled slowly, and her hips rolled forward harder. The friction was almost too much, but I wasn’t about to stop her. She was making small breathy sounds, and every single one of them went straight through me.
Her fingers tangled in my hair, pulling hard enough to make me groan.
“Lucan—” Her breath caught.
“Come for me.” I kept my voice steady, even though I was barely holding it together. My hips lifted to meet her rhythm, and the pressure was building fast. Too fast.
She shuddered, her body tensing. I felt the moment she came, the way her muscles locked and her weight sagged forward.
I held her there, my hands moving to her back, and kept rocking up into her until the friction and her shaking against me pushed me over the edge.
I bit down on her shoulder through the jacket to muffle the sound I made, my vision going white for a second.
I held her close as she slumped against me.
“Holy shit,” she muttered into my shoulder.
I laughed, my chest still heaving. She lifted her head, her eyes meeting mine. She looked surprised.
I brushed a strand of hair from her forehead. “Are you okay?”
