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Fuck. Fuck. Fuckrepeats inside my head, but for entirely different reasons.
“Drew,” I murmur as he kisses me again, sliding his tongue inside my mouth and slowing down to really take his time.
“Yeah?”
I moan as his lips travel down my neck, and he groans as my body quivers in response. He pulls back to look at me when I don’t say anything, and I’m met with vibrant blue.
“How was your flight?” I stall, stroking the back of his head.
His eyelids grow heavy, and he leans into my touch. The act makes me smile because I’m learning how he likes to be touched. Just like he’s learning what gets me breathless with need for him.
“It was in a plane in the sky. I don’t want to talk about my flight.”
“What do you want to talk about?”
“Nothing. I want to take my girlfriend to bed and show her what three days apart does to me.” His lips return to my neck and he presses his body closer, his erection pushing against the underside of my thigh.
“I cooked dinner for us,” I whisper as he trails one hand up the side of my body and then slowly circles his thumb around my hardening nipple through my thin T-shirt.
“Fine,” he mumbles. “After dinner, then. But grant me one touch first.”
“You are touching,” I breathe as I look at his thumb stroking my nipple. I bite back a moan at how he can make something so simple feel so good.
“I don’t mean touch with this.” He removes his hand, then curls his fingers around the hem of my top, managing to push it up and pull the cup of my bra down at the same time. “I mean with this.”
His mouth wraps around my nipple, and a whimper forces its way from my lips and a surge of wetness soaks my panties.
“Sounds like you did miss me. Not fuckingmighthave.” He slaps my ass cheek through my jeans and smiles around my nipple before flicking his tongue over my puckered skin.
I stifle another moan as he sucks it again. They’ve been getting more and more sensitive this past week, and I swear if he keeps this up, I’ll come without needing him to touch me anywhere else.
“Dinner will be ruined if we don’t eat soon,” I pant.
He chuckles, giving me one last suck. “You’ll be ruined once I’ve finished with you later.”
He places me back down on the ground on shaky legs.
I press a kiss to his lips, unable to resist, and then entwine my fingers with his and lead him into the kitchen where I’ve set up two places on the marble counter.
“You can open a bottle of wine if you like? There’s some white in the fridge.”
I slide my hand from his and grab an oven mitt to take the buttered chicken out of the oven.
“You don’t want one?”
I glance over my shoulder to where he’s looking at the single wine glass on the counter.
“No, I shouldn’t.” I turn back around and start plating up. I swear he’ll know something’s going on if he sees the heat in my cheeks.
“Then I won’t, either.” He walks up behind me, curling a hand around my hip and pressing his chest against my back as he reaches up into the cabinet above me to fetch a water glass.
My breath stalls as his body heat melts into mine. He barely has to do anything and my stomach is fluttering around like crazy.
“You sure you want dinner first?” He chuckles.
I swallow and continue serving. “I do. It’ll give us time to talk. We need to talk.”
“Okay.” He steps back. “As long as you aren’t breaking up with me.” He laughs and fills his glass before taking a seat.
