Page 64 of Hats off to Love

“Do what?”

“Make that face. I know I’ve teased you about your hats, headbands, whatever, but I meant what I said the other night—I love them all. I love that you put so much thought into them when you are making them, and I love that you wear them. They are you and you are you. If I saw you here and you weren’t wearing something, I’d be worried about your belief in your own products.” He gives me a small smile.

“Careful, Whitlock. That sounded an awful lot like another compliment.”

“That’s because it was,” he says, looking down at his hands, which are resting on my calves just above the boots.

Slowly, he slides them up my legs and over my knees until they fall just under my dress. This reminds me of the dinner at his mother’s house almost two months ago, only then he didn’t look affected at all, and now he does. Then we were surrounded by other people. Now we are not.

“I like the way you dress too,” he says, his voice a little huskier than before. His thumbs swipe back and forth across my skin. My stomach and my core both clench.

“Stokes,” I whisper.

His eyes rise to find mine, and there’s an intensity to them I haven’t seen before. A sudden longing threads its way through my chest and lower. It has every muscle tightening and my feet hooking around his legs to hold him in place. Slowly, without breaking eye contact, he slides his hands all the way under my skirt until they wrap around my hips, and he pulls me forward so we are pressed together. Even though I’m sitting up higher, he’s still taller than me, and I have to lean back on my hands so I can continue to see him.

My breath catches as long dark lashes hover over his heavy-lidded eyes, and no words need to be said as he leans forward and our lips catch lightly once, draw apart, and then slip together again. He sucks my bottom lip into his mouth, and a whimper escapes me. I bite his top lip, and he growls. The vibration is like the rev of an engine that urges us on and drives me wild.

Stokes kisses me with abandon.

Deeper.

Longer.

Hungrier.

Kiss after kiss and touch after touch, he memorizes every sound, every gasp, and every movement, like when I arch my spine and when my fingertips grip his shoulders to steady myself. He bends over and places his wet mouth on my neck. Dragging his teeth across my skin, he stops at the hollow of my throat and sucks as his fingers dip into the crease of my legs and hips with his thumbs pressing so close in my inner thighs to where I’m desperately aching for him. A whimper escapes, and my legs wrap tighter around his to hold him closer. He in turn rocks my hips against him, and I’m rewarded with a hardness that makes me moan.

“How much of you can I have tonight?” he asks, moving his mouth lower to where the edge of my dress lies over my breast.

Without hesitation, I tell him, “All of me.”

He groans as he lifts his head, and his lips crash down on mine. His tongue moves against mine, and I know without a doubt tonight is about to be the best night of my life.

Stokes. Me. Us.

“If we do this, things will forever be different,” I say softly.

He pulls back to look at me, those two little lines slipping in. His lips are full, and his cheeks are high with color. “Aren’t they already?”

He’s right, things are different, at least they are for me.

And I guess they are for him too.

I nod, and what looks like relief washes over his features.

Sliding his hands underneath me, he lifts me so easily, and I wrap around him, just like in the barn. He walks us to the door, and with each step, my heart rate increases. The anticipation of what’s to come is almost too much, but I am here for it, here for him . . . all of him.

23

Somehow we make it up the stairs and into my apartment. I should be asking him if he is hungry. After all, we did talk about dinner, but something tells me if he is hungry, it’s not for food, and the feeling is mutual.

The door closes behind us, and he spins so my back is against it, and I’m hoisted back up in his arms with my legs now locked around his waist. This position has become familiar for us, and it’s quite possibly my favorite as I get to climb him like a tree and wrap around him like a koala bear, only this time no one will be calling and interrupting—or at least if they try, they will be ignored. His hands make themselves at home beneath my underwear as he holds me up, and I just can’t get close enough to him.

My hands cradle his head, and my fingers thread through his hair as his mouth takes mine. His tongue is exploring every part, even dipping to the insides of my lips, where he licks from one side to the other. I can’t help the noise that escapes me or how my thighs pull him even closer.

“I look forward to peeling these clothes off of you, one by one,” he says, his voice rough against my skin.

“So do it already.” I wiggle a bit, wanting him to move this show along.