Page 60 of Until You

“All you had to do was open the door.”

I bark out a laugh that turns into a yelp when he uses my belt loops as a means to spin me around so I’m forced to face him.

God, he’s gorgeous.

And shirtless.

Guess I’m not the only one who took their shirt off and walked down the hall.

“The door? That’s it?”

“The door. Oreos on a porch. Toasting our ice cream cones. Your smile.” He jostles his head from side to side and grins. “Basically, just you.”

“Lucky for me then.”

“I think I’m the lucky one.”

And with those words, Crew dives his hands into my hair and brings his mouth to mine. It’s a soul-searing, body-heating, panty-wetting kiss that leaves me gasping for air when his lips break from mine.

“Jesus, Ten. You kiss me like that again, and you just might end up being thrown on the bed and taken advantage of.”

“Yes. Please.” It’s my turn to return the favor. My hand at the back of his neck. His hard, jean-clad cock pressed firmly against me. The sweet, oak taste of his brandy as our tongues dance with each other’s. The soft slide of his hands as they move up my back and begin unclasping my bra.

“I’m warning you,” he murmurs between kisses before doing just what he threatened to do. In one fell swoop, with our mouths barely breaking from the kiss, Crew scoops me up with his hands on my ass and my legs wrapped around his waist before diving onto the bed.

Both of us together.

We land with a thud accentuated by our laughter and then emphasized with my moan as his lips close around one of my nipples and his hand kneads at the other.

“Not very graceful,” he says as he looks up at me from between my breasts, “but when you’re as desperate as I am to be inside of you . . . grace goes out the fucking window.”

My body aches for more of his touch. For more of his taste. To feel every inch of him—inside and out.

His mouth closes around my other nipple, and I emit a laugh-filled moan. “I don’t need grace, Madden. I just need you.” An arch of my back as his teeth scrape over a sensitive peak. “And for us to have been smarter and taken our jeans off before we lay down.”

Crew’s laugh rings out. “Are you doubting my skills?”

He’s up and off the bed in seconds, his hands on my ankles and yanking me toward its edge. With our eyes on each other’s, we both fumble with our own buttons and zippers. But whereas I’m unable to pull my pants off because he’s standing between my legs, Crew does just that.

He pushes his jeans down, and when he stands up, I’m rendered speechless. Yes, I’ve seen the man shirtless and know just what I’m getting myself into . . . but seeing him like this—the entirety of him—is on a whole other level.

Those chiseled muscles continue everywhere his clothes normally cover. To the deep V of his hips and the darkened scar that only serves to highlight his otherwise perfection. To the firmness of his thighs that I crave to feel pressed against mine.

And let me not forget to acknowledge his incredibly impressive cock standing at attention.

No woman would see it for the first time and not acknowledge that it’s a thing of beauty.

Least of all a woman who’s been in a dry spell and is about to get pleasured by it.

When I look back up to meet his eyes, the half-cocked smirk he gives me, highlighted by his lust-darkened eyes, is a seduction in and of itself.

I itch to touch him. To taste him. To run my tongue over every dig and striation of those well-earned muscles. To feel them tense as he’s about to come.

“My turn,” he murmurs as he begins to tug at the waist of my jeans. I lift my hips as he tugs them down and off. His breath and the graze of his eyes over my body ignites a tiny thousand fires beneath my skin. “Christ.”

It’s a lone, groaned word that holds so much dark promise.

“Do you know what I’ve dreamt of doing to you? The places I want to kiss? The things I want to lick? The pleasure I want to give? The sounds I want you to make? Do you, Tenny?”