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“What the lady wants.” I curl a hand around the back of her neck then tug her onto my lap.
Water sloshes as she straddles me, sinking onto the ridge of my erection.
I’m the one groaning now—loud and rough and so fucking eager for more of her.
She slides against me, riding the outline of my cock. We kiss until we’re hotter and more bothered. Until the temperature between us rises higher than the temperature in the hot tub. Until I can feel the slickness in her bikini even in the water.
Then, I feel a wet eager tongue against my cheek. I break the kiss, laughing as Donut gets in on the action, licking my face.
“She’s affectionate,” I say.
“I guess she’s into you,” Briar says, lifting a playful brow.
My lips curve into a cocky grin. I don’t say what’s on my mind, but maybe Briar reads it since she leans closer, tits pressed to my chest as she whispers, “She’s not the only one.”
I listen to that cue too. Oh hell, do I ever.
I cup her face, slide my thumb against her top lip, then shove it into the corner of her mouth, letting her suck for a few mind-bending seconds. Letting her take the lead as she kicks this up another few notches.
When she lets go, I say, “Want to take this inside?”
14
THE FIRST GUY
Briar
We sprint.
We’re grabbing towels and wine and phones as Donut races with us, jumping at the door as I open it, then immediately beelining to a cushy chair in the living room and curling into a dog ball on it, since she believes all furniture is dog furniture.
Which is reasonable.
But a few steps into the kitchen, it occurs to me Hollis hasn’t even seen the inside of the cottage. As I dry off quickly, I nod toward the open living room. “Want a tour?”
“Not on your fucking life,” he says, dragging the towel across his broad chest, then tossing it onto a stool.
Stalking me.
Before I know it, he’s grabbing me, jerking me against him, then hoisting me up on the kitchen counter, kissing me all over again. There will be time for a tour later.
As he kisses me thoroughly, all I can think is Steven was wrong. Or maybe he was right about our kisses.
I never felt like this with my ex. Any ex. I never felt this thrumming in my cells. This heat under my skin. This sweet, slow ache between my thighs.
I tip my face up, asking for more of his ravenous kisses, and he gives them to me, wedging himself between my legs, making himself right at home where I want him. I wrap my ankles around his ass and tug him closer.
The man kisses like he plays hockey. He goes all out. He hustles, he chases opportunities, he holds nothing back. He seems like a damn good candidate to break my streak—the zero O’s with another person streak.
A man who goes all out might be just what I need. When he hauls me closer, I go with it, doing my best to just…enjoy.
What’s not to enjoy, really? His hands coast up my belly, then around to my bikini top, untying it, letting it fall to the tiled floor with a wet thwap. I laugh. He laughs at the sound too.
Then our laughter dies when his gaze lands on my breasts.
His smile makes me feel like I’m the birthday present he’s always wanted. He looks up, his hungry eyes on me. “You are so fucking pretty everywhere,” he says, then he bends and presses a hot, hungry kiss to my right breast, then my left, murmuring, praising them, kissing and sucking and…wow.
Maybe this can happen.
