Page 52 of Flirting with 40

“No, I am . . . but I don’t want to kiss everyone like I want to kiss you right now.”

“You do?”

“Mm-hmm.” That rumble of sound helps to build the ache suddenly burning between my thighs. “I’ve been thinking about your lips for days.”

“We’ve barely known each other for days.” I laugh, but it is swallowed by the sexual tension eating up the room.

“Then I’ve been thinking about it for hours.” He sweeps his thumb over the hollow of my throat.

“Hours?”

“Mm-hmm. Ever since I pretended like we needed to kiss for the sake of our cover.” He brings his other hand up to cup the side of my face.

“It wasn’t just for our cover?”

“No.” He darts his tongue out to wet his lips as his eyes darken in the dim light of the room. “Definitely not for that.”

“Oh.”

“Oh?” he murmurs as his lips turn up on one side.

“Yeah. Oh.” Deep breath. Don’t think, just ask. “Why haven’t you kissed me again then?”

With a courage I’ve never had before and a will bolstered by way too many glasses of wine, I step up to Slade Henderson and kiss him.

I’m hesitant at first, scared that I just overstepped, but when my mouth meets his, when his lips move in tune with mine, all of my worries fade into desire. All of my anxiety morphs into want. Need. Into anything and everything with the taste of his kiss and the smooth hardness of his chest beneath the palms of my hands.

He lets me take the lead despite the control I can feel humming just beneath the surface of his taut muscles. The minute his hands skim down the sides of my torso and his thumbs brush ever so lightly over the peaks of my breasts, I know he’s just as willing of a participant as I am in this delicate dance.

His tongue delves between my lips as his hands splay over my ass and pull me against him. Through my thin pajama bottoms and his gym shorts, there is no mistaking how hard he is, and if I said the feel of him didn’t stoke my fires even more, I’d be lying.

There is an electricity humming in my veins that’s equal parts thrill and lust and desire and I want all three to win.

His kisses are an assault in and of themselves. Soft and tender intertwined with desperate and hungry. Need and finesse edged with want and greed. Pleasurable contradictions that I am eager to explore.

One after another.

Our soft moans fill the small space as the floorboards creak beneath our feet.

“Blake.” He groans as I reach down and cup his hardness, his dick pulsing beneath my touch. The sweet, burning ache it creates between my thighs borders on painful.

He kisses his way down my neck as his fingers slip beneath my waistband and grab my hips. His caress begs for me to stay still and let him touch more of me, but when his lips close over my nipple through the fabric of my tank top, thinking coherently becomes nonexistent.

Anything but focusing on the sensations he’s evoking in me become irrelevant.

“Slade,” I murmur.

“Mmm?”

“Touch me,” I say between gasps as his lips close over my other breast and suck through the fabric.

“Oh, I’m getting there,” he says with a chuckle as he pushes me to sit on the edge of the bed, helping me pull my tank off. When the fabric breaks over my head, his cock is right in front of my face, pressing against the seam of his shorts.

Unable to resist, I tug his shorts down. When his dick springs free above the elastic band, I let out a gasp. It’s impressive by any measure, long and thick with a perfectly shaped tip, and so gloriously hard that I don’t even think twice before leaning forward and taking it between my lips.

“Oh fucking God.” The three words he half growls, half moans are just as sexy as the weight of him against my tongue.

Nothing else matters but the salty taste of Slade on my tongue and how his fingers tighten in my hair as I suction around him before I slowly slide him back out.