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I cage her in with one arm braced above her head and the fingers of my free hand tucking against the button on her jeans. “It’s not going to be bad.” It could never be bad between us.
“No?”
She’s winding me up, playing like she doesn’t know. I see her coming a mile away, but fuck if I don’t let her anyway. Having her intentions wound up with my reactions feels amazing. It’s different with her. So different.
“I’m going to get you off, Lara. And it’s going to be really fucking good. It’s going to be better than any guy you’ve had.”
“But?” she prompts, hands rushing over my chest and abs.
“But it’s just going to be sex. Nothing revelatory. Nothing we can’t function around or step past as friends.”
“That’s what I want.”
“I’ve done this enough—” Enough women, enough ways, enough times when I was searching for that feeling I’d had with her and never finding anything close. “To be able to say with absolute certainty, sex can be fucking amazing… and still just be sex.”
Even as I say it, I wonder if it’s possible with her. If I’m lying to us both because I want any version of what she’s offering too much to resist.
Before I can think too far about it, she says, “Prove it.”
Her chin is turned up in a taunt, her eyes burning, lips hooked in a sexy smile that’s just begging me to?—
My mouth meets hers a fraction of a second before her shoulders meet the wall. It’s a savage, desperate clash of tongues, lips, and teeth. Devouring kisses, hungry hands roaming, grasping at clothing to tug each other closer.
Jesus, she tastes sweet. Like tequila, pure need, and the girl I thought I’d never have to live without.
And yeah, maybe I ought to be concerned that our first kiss is doing things to me an entire night with anyone else in the last eight years couldn’t.
But it’s just the anticipation. The buildup. Christ, that soft little moan.
My fingers are in her hair, fisting it tight to hold her in place as I take her mouth.
Hers are making quick work of my belt and fly.
I’ve been horny before, I’ve been wound up to get in and get off, but this?
Maybe I made a mistake.
Maybe I misjudged. Because this kiss alone?
Maybe I should stop.
I kiss her harder, and she opens to me, clutching at my hair, my shoulders, and my shirt.
Licking into her mouth, I stroke her tongue. Take her breath in and give mine back.
I want to savor this, but there’s a short circuit happening in my head that’s demanding everything at once. I need the shape of her, the taste of her, the sound of her coming for me. I need to see the rise and fall of her chest, the goosebumps on her belly, and the look in her eyes when I get her close, when I keep her there, when I draw it out because I know it’ll make it better for her and because I can’t stand the idea of it ending.
I want— Fuck, I want more than what this is. But I’m too far gone to stop over something as trivial as my sanity.
We get this one time.
She’s going to have a few mind-blowing orgasms to look back on… They will be a million times better than anything those other fuckers gave her, but they won’t be tangled up with all the emotion and newness that got into the mix the first time around.
So I kiss her again, pouring myself into the act of teasing her mouth like the Stanley Cup depends on it.
11
Ben
