She only makes it a couple of feet when I say, “You know Logan said the lasagna has to rest before we eat it.”
She slowly turns back to me. Rolling her bottom lip between her teeth, she murmurs, “He said that, didn’t he?”
Crooking two fingers, I beckon her. Dropping her clothes back on top of her bag, she keeps her towel in place as she moves across the room to me.
“Is it that kind of date now?” she asks, her gaze lingering over me.
“Do you want it to be?”
She slowly nods her head, keeping her eyes locked on mine as she steps closer.
My breath catches as the towel slips from her fingers and falls to the floor, pooling at her feet. Her ebony hair cascades over her shoulders, brushing over the swell of her breasts. Ink winds over her smooth skin in ribbons of colour, telling stories I ache to learn with my tongue.
She is gorgeous. Absolutely devastating. And she’s here with me.
I’ve held her against me and felt the shape of her body through her clothes in the dark, but nothing prepared me for the sight of her standing here completely bare and trusting me.
I don’t move at first, frozen in place. I’m here fully dressed, and she’s…not.
Raising one eyebrow, she smirks and does a slow spin. And because she is her, she blurts out, “Well, this is me. What are you waiting for, Pretty Boy? Come on—strip and show me what you’ve got.”
A laugh bursts from my mouth before I can help it. She’s joking and trying to pretend she’s not nervous, but the pink creeping up her cheeks gives her away.
“Jesus,” I say, dragging a hand over my mouth. “Give me a minute. I’m still trying to remember how to breathe.”
Stepping towards her, I grab the hem of my shirt and pull it over my head, dropping it with her abandoned towel on the floor. I freeze when she lifts her hand and pushes her hair back over her shoulder, exposing her tight nipples and the rapid rise and fall of her chest.
“Don’t stop now,” she says, meeting my eyes.
My fingers fumble at the button of my jeans. Lowering the zipper, I shove them down and step out of them. Standing there in nothing but my grey boxer briefs, I see her openly staring at the outline of my hard cock.
“Well?” I say, echoing her earlier words. “This is me.”
“Not bad, Pretty Boy.” Stepping towards me, she presses her bare chest against my own.
“Not bad,” I repeat. “I’m wounded.” I pull her hips closer so she can feel against her stomach what she does to me.
She rolls her eyes and smiles. Her nerves are gone. No more pretending.
Dipping my head, I press my lips to hers. Soft and testing at first, then allowing her to take the lead. She responds instantly, tilting her head and pressing closer. Her tongue runs along the seam of my lips, asking for entrance as her hands run up the back of my neck into my hair. I deepen the kiss; my hands explore her body. Touching, teasing as I learn what she likes.
I break the kiss long enough to catch my breath and make sure this is what she wants. Her eyes are bright and hungry, and it makes me ache with need.
“What am I going to do with you?” I ask, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek.
She laughs breathlessly and whispers in my ear, “Whatever you want.”
Capturing her mouth, I kiss her again. Fuck me. Why didn’t we do this sooner?
Step by step, I guide her backwards towards my bed. Pulling away, she mumbles into my lips, “There’s a box of condoms in my bag.”
“I bought some today. They’re in my nightstand.”
She giggles into my shoulder. “The ladies at the pharmacy will be talking about us for days.”
“I’m sure they will. As I was paying, she told me to have an enjoyable evening.”
“I’ll make sure you do,” she says as she slowly drops to her knees. Pulling my boxers down, she hums with appreciation as my hard cock springs free.
