Grumbling, I slip my shorts off, knowing my loose v-neck t-shirt is long enough to sleep in, and climb back into bed. I try to settle down, but my mind is racing in a million directions.I can probably just climb onto his lap while he’s asleep. A man would like that,right? That’s what I’ll do. Should I wait until morning? Wake him up now? Morning might be better.
Having decided, I close my eyes and roll to my side, trying to find sleep. It’s impossible to relax when my mouth feels like I’m sucking on a cotton ball. I shove the blanket off and pad to the bathroom. The small nightlight by the sink illuminates the space enough to tell that there is no cup on the sink.
Shit.
I consider cupping my hands under the faucet, but I’m just not sure that’s going to cut it, so I make my way to the staircase, tiptoeing down toward the kitchen.
The house is so dark, I can hardly see my hand in front of my face.That settles that. I’ll wait until morning so I can at least see what I’m doing when I try to seduce him.
A small light plugged into the wall in the kitchen is the beacon that guides me. Hands splayed out in front of me, feeling around for furniture I’d prefer not to crash into, I move silently and carefully until I’m at the counter. Opening the cabinet, I quietly pull out a plastic cup that looks reserved for backyard barbecues and clumsy people, and fill it with water, chugging the entire thing before refilling it again.
Newly full cup of water in hand, and feeling confident I can get back to the stairs in the dark, I make my way out of the kitchen, colliding with Luke at the intersection of the hallway. The cup of water squishes between us, spilling all over my shirt, the soaked fabric now clinging to my skin.
“Holy fuck!” he cries out, startled. His hands reach up to grip my shoulders, our bodies mashed together. “Dammit, Trip. One of these days you’re going to give me an actual heart attack!” He reaches over and flicks on the hallway light at the same time I back out of his reach.
“Why the hell are you in the hallway? Where’s your shirt? Andpants?” This beautiful man is standing nearly naked in front of me. My eyes roam up the sculpted planes of his chest, the linesof his stomach, and trace along the strip of hair that leads below the waistband of his black briefs where a prominent bulge is on display.
“I was in the bathroom!Mypants? Where areyourpants?”
How did I not hear him?“What, do you have a silent toilet or something?”
He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he’s blatantly perusing my bare legs to my very soaked shirt, clinging to me like a second skin. Luke shoves a hand through his hair, massaging the back of his neck. His muscles bunch with the motion. Between that and the now obvious hard-on that’s attempting to burst through his briefs, my mind goes nearly blank except for one thing.
Need.
My nipples are fully broadcasting to the world just how turned on I am in this exact moment under my barely padded bra and drenched shirt.
Watching as Luke’s eyes take notice, a tickle flutters low in my belly.
“My shirt is wet,” I state simply.
He clears his throat. “I noticed.”
“May I borrow another until this one dries?” It’s now or never. No one is around to interrupt us this time. No need to worry if he wants me too. I know he does, and if I didn’t, that glorious length trying to break free from his boxer briefs is a solid sign.
“Of course. I’ll give you anything you need.” With the way he’s looking at me, I’m not sure a shirt is what he’s talking about anymore.
I ignore my racing heart and give in completely to the need coursing through my blood at the sight of this man. I lift my shirt up and over my head and hold it out in my hand.
Luke’s eyes roam my body as he reaches out and takes the wet shirt, placing it on the counter beside him.
“Are you sure you need a fresh shirt?” he growls. A lock ofbrownish-blonde hair falls into his eyes. “I quite like this look on you.”
I step into him, my body flush against his, and push the hair out of his face, running my fingers along his scalp. He grips my waist, thumbs rubbing my bare sides.
“No, I don’t need a new shirt,” I whisper, reaching up on my toes so my mouth hovers just away from his, waiting for him to close the final distance.
“That’s a fucking relief.” His mouth crashes into mine. Luke’s hands find their way under my ass, lifting me up and wrapping my legs around him. As if I weigh nothing, he carries me through the cottage and up the stairs to his bedroom, our mouths tangling together feverishly.
His arousal throbs against my belly, turning my insides molten as he carries me to the bed. Sitting on the edge of the bed so I’m straddling him, I gasp as Luke gives my ass one more squeeze before running his hands up the length of my back. He grips my hair, tugging the end, effectively pulling my face from his, exposing my neck. His soft lips kiss and stroke my skin. Goosebumps race down my arms as a shiver of pleasure races through me.
“You are so fucking sexy,” he murmurs, palming my breasts, squeezing them together and kissing the swell of cleavage while his fingers tease the tips of my nipples. He pulls one lace cup down and draws me into his mouth, sucking greedily, swirling his tongue around the sensitive bud. An involuntary hiss of pleasure escapes me as he makes his way to the other nipple.
I unclasp my bra and watch him as he watches me slip each bra strap down until it’s in a puddle on the floor behind me.
He hums a sound of appreciation. His hands massage my breasts, mouth kissing along my jaw.
“So, you’re a boob guy?” I joke, grinding my center into him.
