She arches one eyebrow. “I very much doubt a movie was on your agenda. But I’m pretty sure dates start with saying hello.”
A slow smile tugs at the corner of my lips. “I’m pretty sure we said a very thorough hello back in the bait shop.”
“Meh, that was foreplay and you know it.” Maren tugs the sheets up over her cheeks as the color rises in them.
I slip my cut off my shoulders and hang it on the hook next to the door. Her eyes follow the movement.
“You’re staring,” I say, and weirdly, I feel my face heat under the scrutiny. And it’s not like she didn’t already see me naked.
“You’re very stare worthy. I don’t want to miss a minute of this.”
The tension between us is thick enough to feel and my cock aches in anticipation. Maren pushes herself onto her elbows, and the sheets drop a little but defy gravity by clinging onto pert nipples.
I’m glad I hid the bike. Mainly because I don’t want the drama that comes with people knowing about the two of us. But there is also something deeply intimate about this being private.
Something just between the two of us that only grows the closer I get to her.
I nudge a piece of hair back behind her ear. “I’m gonna assume consent, given our earlier conversation, but you change your mind, you tell me and I’ll stop. I don’t like games or traffic light colors or any of that bullshit. Just say ‘Knox, stop’ and I’ll check in with you.”
Maren nods. “I’m not changing my mind. I’m here because I want to expand it.”
She holds my stare for a second, and then I lean down and kiss her. It’s slower than in the shop, the ones that felt rushed and hurried. Like we were stealing something from each other because we knew it was all we could give.
But now, we have time.
And she’s addictive. Like the first shot of an aged single malt, or the perfect purr of a freshly tuned bike.
My hand slides beneath the edge of the sheet where her skin is soft and warm to the touch, and I nudge it down over those juicy tits of hers. She makes a quiet sound against my lips as I cup one in my hand and brush my thumb over a taut nipple.
“You’re overdressed,” she murmurs.
I pull back to look at her. “I’m not in a hurry. You’re the one skipping the date part.”
“You can make it up to me.”
“How?” My voice drops low.
“Ruin me, Knox.”
The thought of doing that nearly wrecks my composure. “Maren.”
Her fingers slide around the back of my neck, and she pulls my mouth back to hers. “Stop talking.”
I’m more than happy to follow that instruction.
All the sex I’ve had in the last decade was about me. That’s what club girls are there for. There’s a reason they carry the nickname cum-buckets. It’s cheaper and more convenient than finding a hook-up at a bar, and I pride myself that I’ve never once been on any of those dating apps.
But right now, I want to make it good for her. I want Maren to enjoy herself and come back for more.
No matter how I try to compartmentalize what we’re doing here, I know it’s not a quick lay to work through shit. Exhaustion. Anger. Grief.
This is…special.
Kisses become the kind that explode. The kind that make your head spin and take your breath away at the same time. It’s the simplest and yet, most powerful, intimacy.
Touches become the kind that make bodies arch and ache.
I lift off her and tug my shirt over my head to avoid wasting time opening buttons. My socks quickly follow. I walk back to my cut and pull two of the condoms I keep in one of the pockets. When I return to the bed, I toss them onto the pillow next to the one Maren is lying on.
