His mouth lowered again. This time, he just brushed his lips over mine, then nipped my bottom lip and kissed along my jaw, down my neck. I melted into him like my bones had turned to putty.
“We agreed on one night only,” I said, even as my head tilted to give him more access.
“The last few weeks changed my mind.”
The words hit me harder than I expected. I wasn’t the only one who hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it—abouthim.
“What if they find us?” I whispered, even as I arched toward him when he nipped at my neck, my earlobe, erasing my resolve with every touch.
“You’ll just have to be quiet.”
And before I could ask what that meant, he dropped to his knees in front of me.
One hand lifted my damp sweater to kiss my clammy, cold stomach; the other unbuttoned my jeans.
“Shit,” I breathed. “This has to be in your top three worst ideas.”
“Shhh,” he said, then paused. “What are the other two?”
His fingers found the curve of my breast through my bra.
“Entering this competition.”
He tugged my jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion, until my bare ass met the cold shelf behind me. I sucked in a sharp breath—his warm mouth brushing against my hip bone.
“Agree to disagree,” he said, kissing the scar there. “And the third?”
As my jeans hit the floor, he helped me step out of one boot, then lifted my legs onto his shoulders like we’d done this a hundred times. I clung to the shelves behind me, praying to Bowie they wouldn’t collapse.
“Your choice of cat food,” I panted. “You’re enabling your cat’s obesity.”
He bit my thigh, and I stifled a yelp.
“I won’t stand for Queequeg slander.”
Before I could say I loved his fat cat, his beard brushed the inside of my thighs, and I forgot how to speak entirely. The firstcontact of his tongue sent my spine arching, knees trembling—good thing he was holding me up.
I briefly worried about tasting like sweat and adrenaline and bad decisions—but then John moaned into me.
“Fucking hell,” I gasped, as his tongue licked me like sorbet off a spoon. Long. Indulgent. Devastatingly thorough. Savoring me bit by tiny bit.
“You taste like heaven, Nora.” His slow strokes turned deeper, hungrier. The tip of his tongue moved with unrelenting purpose, winding me tighter with every pass.
Forget the worst ideas—this was one of his best. But I wasn’t about to feed that ego.
Footsteps outside.
“Where did they go?” I heard Charlene’s voice.
Shit.
But John didn’t stop. If anything, he doubled down. He covered my mouth with one hand while he sucked on me harder, his other hand sliding between us, fingers slipping inside me with practiced ease.
I moaned into his palm, body arching. My own hands found his damp hair, gripping tight. I bucked my hips against his face, matching his rhythm, every part of me pulling tighter and tighter.
Outside, the group passed, their voices fading.
Inside, nothing existed except the way his tongue moved, the way his fingers filled me, the raw heat unspooling in my belly. I was unraveling, my whole body pulsing around him. I forgot where I was. Forgot who I was.
