He shakes his head. “I haven’t even seen you naked, and I already know I’m gonna miss you like crazy tomorrow.”
It’s probably a line he’s used a hundred times, but it makes me desperate to see where his tan lines end and where my birthday gift to myself begins.
“Hey, don’t go getting all sappy on me, cowboy. This is just a fun one-night thing.”
“So you said. Don’t worry, Duchess. I don’t do relationships. The lonely life suits me just fine.”
I wonder what he means by that. Is he actually lonely?
Not something that needs to concern me right now.
“Okay, then. Show me what you’ve got, cowboy.”
Fitz shakes his head at me. “You’re trouble, aren’t you?”
I shrug and play coy. He doesn’t need to know I’m as straitlaced as they come.
Fitz holds himself above me on his elbows, but I want his full weight. My body begs for it, and I pull him closer.
Our kiss evolves from tentative and sweet to hungry and depraved. I run my hands through his hair, vaguely noticing the contrast between the soft strands that curl over his ears and the rough scrape of his unshaven face against my skin.
He kisses his way from my mouth to my neck, finding erogenous zones I didn’t know I had. My head falls back as he kisses my throat, and the small moan I can’t stifle seems to fuel him.
I run my hands the length of his torso, the curves and contours of his muscles like a relief map of a secret, gorgeous landscape. I want to shove his pants down and put my hands onhim. I’ve been thinking about how he’d feel inside me since I saw him sitting at the bar, and I inhale a shaky breath as my nerves throb and beg for more of him.
The room is so quiet that all I can hear is the groans and sighs of us reacting to each other.
“Do you have music on your phone or anything?” I ask.
He scoops the cell phone out of his pocket so quickly I'm pretty sure he had the same idea. With a few swipes on the glass, I hear the musical introduction of a Chris Stapleton song, all strong guitar and easy melody. Of course he'd like country rock.
He lifts the hem of my shirt and plants a row of kisses along my waist, slipping the silk up inch by inch as his lips move higher. Sliding a hand beneath me, he lifts my shoulders from the bed and slips my shirt off. Then he reaches around to unhook my bra clasp and lifts it away.
Lowering me gingerly, he observes me, his eyes running the length of my torso, a small smile on his lips. “So goddamn gorgeous.” His voice is a hot cowboy rumble.
His kisses chart a path again down my throat to the swell of my breasts. Still lost in his kiss, I only notice I’m naked from the waist up when his warm breath tickles my skin.
Fitz takes his time, lips heating my skin with a luxurious burn. His tongue rolls over one nipple, circling and sucking until it goes hard. I feel an ache deep in my belly and moan.
His soft hair tickles my abdomen as he moves lower, popping the button on my jeans and sliding them down. My response is another moan, and he tips his head up with a soft chuckle.
“That’s my new favorite sound, Duchess.” I’m too satiated to feel embarrassed about the noises I’m making. Then he follows up with, “Probably the longest you've gone without reminding me you’re outta here after one night.”
“Criticism is not my love language,” I sigh.
“Oh, it’s not criticism. I love your sass, honey.”
The word “honey” sets my heart beating faster. I don’t know why a throwaway term of endearment gets me, but hearing it roll off his tongue with a bit of twang is honey itself.
“I was just observing that now I know how to turn it off…by turning you on.” His laugh is a sexy rumble.
I'd give him a smack for his cocky attitude, except that he's right, and I kind of love his smug satisfaction. “That an invitation to keep my mouth shut?”
“It’s an invitation for you to relax and enjoy, birthday girl.” His teeth nip at my bare legs as he tugs my jeans down and tosses them on the floor. I look at my underwear, blinding in its plain, beige glory, and I squeeze my eyes shut, praying that he's not going to return to that discussion. But of course he is.
“I feel like I was sold a false bill of goods, Duchess. These panties aren't nearly the giant bloomers you made them out to be.”
My cheeks heat, and I’m about to consider putting my clothes back on. But I catch him grinning like a schoolboy who’s just been offered a puppy, and I relax. “They’re not the best,” I admit, but my words are lost when he slides over me for a sweet, deep kiss.
