I don’t want him to think I’m not excited to move in with him. I’m over the moon about that. It’s the dang birds, which, as much as he tries, he probably won’t ever fully relate to this part of me.
So I resort to my old tricks. “Do you still spit on your hot dog before eating it?”
His eyes shimmer with mirth, and the edge of his mouth curves upward. “No, but I do make very intense eye contact with strangers in elevators.”
Suddenly, my smile is far less plastic. “For twenty-two bonus points, you should moan when you press the button to select your floor.”
“Thanks for the tip. I’ve been biting my lip when I do that. I like your suggestion better.”
“Kiss me if I’m wrong, but we’re due for yet another winter blizzard tonight, right?”
He gives my bad joke a pity laugh. “My sweaty pits say otherwise. So pucker up.”
Reed knows there’s no chance of me rejecting his kiss, regardless of how odoriferous we may be. He grabs my cheeks in that doting way of his. I rise to my tiptoes, chin tilting upward eagerly. Our lips converge, driving away my residual peacock melancholy.
My lips part instinctually, granting him access. He’s always welcome to any part of my body he wants—mouth, vagina, heart. Reed has an all-access VIP pass to Lila Land.
With the first swipe of his tongue against mine, an unexpected sultry whimper shimmies up my throat. He drinks it down like a shot of whiskey and uses his groan as the chaser. Pinning me to my car, he pulses his rapidly stiffening cock against me.
Well, this escalated quickly.
His heated reaction to my slutty little sounds never fails to surprise me. You’d think I’d be well-aware of how my whimpers affect him after that night in the tub with his hand over my mouth.
As that memory flutters through me, his kiss grows more passionate. A surprising feat. Perhaps he’s also remembering that sudsy night.
Right before I drag him into my apartment so he can bang me on my dirty floor, he breaks the kiss. His shaky breaths fan over my lips, which he keeps flush against mine.
“Let’s take a bubble bath tonight,” I pant out.
His smile glides over mine. “Oh, you were thinking of that too, huh?”
“A lady never discusses tawdry fantasies.”
He extracts himself from me. Sadly.
“Speaking of which...” he starts, pausing to catch his breath.
“Yes?”
“We still have some fantasies to fulfill.”
“How does tonight sound?” I feign checking an invisible watch. “Will eight work for you?”
He takes my hand, kisses my knuckles, and chivalrously helps me lower into the driver’s seat. “It’s a date, cookie. I’ll bring the cuffs.”
Now that I’m fully trained in the art of fellatio—giggle—I finally confessed what my naughtier fantasy was. The rough version.
Reed wasimmediatelyon board. He even provided sexy suggestions, which made me salivate.
When he slides into the passenger seat, I ask, “Why are you riding with me? I don’t mind, but I figured you’d drive with Sawyer. Did you need a break from him?”
His returning laugh is rich and velvety, causing my toes to twitch with an urge to curl. “Maybe a little.”
When I reach for the gear shifter, he encircles my wrist to stop me. “Gimme your phone.”
“Get your own,” I snark.
I’m rewarded with another decadent laugh. This time itdoescurl my toes.
