Page 157 of Colliding with Ten

Tonight wasn’t for ambushes. I’d do it on a random Tuesday morning six months from now, when she’d be half asleep and unsuspecting, because I planned on being there in six months and every month after that. My fingers passed the spot without stopping. Her eyes softened with gratitude as I unclasped her bra and slid it down her arms.

Then my mouth was on her. I kissed the curve of her shoulder, the line of her collarbone, the space between her breasts where I could feel her heart still racing, and grazed her nipple. I took my time because time was the thing she hadn’t had. Everything in her life had been moving so fast and collapsing, and I wanted her to feel what it was like when someone slowed down for her.

“You’re so strong,” I murmured against her skin. “But you don’t have to be right now.”

She whimpered, her fingers curling into my hair. My tongue circled her nipple until her back arched into me, her whimper becoming a moan. I licked it again, and she gripped my hair harder.

“That’s it. Just let go.”

I worked my way down, laying her back. Her damp jeans still clung to her legs. I hooked my fingers into the waistband and pulled. The denim resisted, sticking to her thighs. Nothing elegant about the process. I tugged. The fabric bunched at her knee, and neither of us could get it past without her lifting her hips and legs while I yanked. She huffed a laugh, embarrassed, but it was the first normal thing all night.

“Sexy,” she muttered.

I tossed everything to the floor. “Incredibly,” I said, looking at her.

She was lying across my couch, bare, trembling, but looking back at me with trust. The lamp in the corner painted her skin in amber. Her hair lay damp and wild against the cushion. The sight of her nearly knocked me to the floor.

Kneeling between her legs, my hands spread her thighs. She tensed for a second, then relaxed. Holding her gaze, I reassured her that she was always safe with me. Lowering my mouth to the inside of her thigh with a kiss, I kept my eyes on her face for as long as the angle allowed. I dropped another, higher, against the crease where her thigh met her hip. She shivered. I watched her, needing to see when she stopped thinking about the headlines and the fellowship and started thinking about nothing at all.

With gentle pressure and strokes, I continued. The tension in her thighs told me when I was close to the right spot, and the hitch in her breath confirmed it. Her hips rocked, giving me the tempo she wanted. Reading bodies was what I did best, but this wasn’t a football game. This was my woman, trusting me with her most vulnerable parts.

Her hips lifted toward my mouth. I sealed my lips around her clit and played. She moaned as I worked the spot with my tongue in circles while my fingers slid inside her. She was wet and warm as I curled my fingers against the front wall.

“Oh, God.” Her thighs clamped against my head.

I smiled against her, loving seeing her like this.

Between ragged breaths, she gasped, “Don’t stop.”

I almost laughed. Why would I? But then, her body sagged. Her breathing changed from ragged pants to regular breaths, fingers loosening their grip in my hair. She was drifting. Thinking about the headlines, maybe. The intrusion was there as if someone had walked into the room.

I pressed my free hand flat against her stomach, wanting to bring her back, and then I reached for her hand, laced our fingers together, and squeezed. At the same time, I increased the pressure with my mouth and curled my other fingers deeper.

Come back to me.

She squeezed back, her hips finding the rhythm again. I built it slowly after that, because I’d almost lost her tonight, and I was determined not to lose her again, even to her thoughts. My tongue moved in slow strokes, my fingers maintaining the rhythm inside her. Every time her body tried to tense with something that wasn’t pleasure, I adjusted until the only thing left in her nervous system was me.

The orgasm came in waves. Her thighs started to shake first, a tremor that traveled up her stomach and chest. Her grip on my hand became crushing as her breathing quickened. Her back arched off the couch, a cry tearing out of her, and I held her, lapping up all her juices until she gentled.

When her body went limp against the cushions, I pressed one last kiss to the inside of her thigh. She breathed in ragged pulls as I dragged my lips up her body to the hollow of her throat. I kissed her then, and she moaned.

“Don’t worry. I’m not done with you,” I said against her mouth.

She opened her eyes, and all I saw was heat. “Then why are you talking?”

I chuckled. “You’re so bossy.”

I stood up, pulled my shirt over my head, and kicked off my sweats. She watched me from the couch, her eyes falling down my body with appreciation, an expression that made my blood rush south. I loved when she looked at me like this. More motivation to hit the weights. I reached the side table drawer and pulled out a condom.

She looked at the drawer and then at me. “That’s conveniently located.”

“I’ve lived here for four years.”

“So that drawer has seen some action.”

“The drawer is retired. It’s been recalled for one purpose.”

“Smooth.”