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“You know what I mean.” She glanced behind her, the line of her neck effortlessly beautiful. “I’m not sure what exactly to do.”
“We’ve done this before,” I said.
“I know. But this time, it’s you.”
Those words hit me: This time, it’s you. I moved into the apartment and closed the door. I pressed her gently against the closed door and leaned my body into hers, feeling every curve of her. I heard her take a surprised breath.
“You’re right,” I said. “It’s me.” I leaned in and kissed her.
She made a sweet, tight sound in her throat and kissed me back, her arms moving around my neck. I opened her mouth and licked slowly into it, and she took my ball cap off and tossed it, her hands running through my hair. Then she tugged at my shirt.
I didn’t have to ask her what she wanted—she was telling me. So I pulled my shirt off and tossed it after my hat, then pressed her into the door again. Her thighs went soft against mine and I rubbed my hardening cock against her through my jeans, feeling her legs part. Her hands ran down my shoulders and my back, and she sighed as I kissed her again.
I broke the kiss and explored the corner of her mouth, her jaw, the line of her neck, the tender skin behind her ear. She shivered and I pulled her shirt up, throwing it away and putting my mouth to her neck again. I knew this woman—I knew her familiar skin, the sounds she made when I touched her this way or that. I knew the taste of her and the way she pressed her hips against mine without conscious thought. But at the same time, I wanted to explore her. Our previous encounters had been fraught with tension, the air electric as we tried to figure each other out. Some of them had been achingly fast. Right now, I wanted to explore Samantha. I wanted to know every inch of her, learn what she liked when there were no questions and the clock wasn’t ticking. I wanted to know how to please her when it was just her and me.
She liked it when I kissed her neck. I grazed her lightly with my teeth, let my Saturday stubble rasp against her skin, then smoothed it with the tip of my tongue. She shook against me, her fingers curling into me, her breath going short. I touched her nipple through the fabric of her bra, then pulled the strap down and touched the bare skin, brushing over it again and again. She moaned.
She hooked one knee around my hip, and then her other knee over the other, giving me full access to the heat between her legs. I took my cue and lifted her, pinning her to the door, rubbing my cock a little roughly into her through the denim. The friction was harsh and her fingers dug into my shoulders again, this time with her short nails digging into my skin. The sting of it was a pleasant shock and I rubbed into her again, making her hips press back against the door. Even through layers of clothes my cock was aching, the root throbbing, the tip throbbing inside my jeans. I lowered my hands to the perfect curves of her ass and held her up.
I could come like this. Just like this, like a teenager on a second date with the girl he’s been after, unable to believe she was kissing him back. Samantha was gripping me, her heels digging into the backs of my thighs as she sighed against me. The combination of soft and bold was intoxicating. I knew by instinct that she had never been like this with other men. She’d never let herself—not until we started the game. She was only like this with me.
“More,” she said as I sucked gently on her neck. “Aidan, can we…”
“Yes, we fucking can.” I unhooked her knees and slipped her yoga pants and panties off, tossing them away. When I stood again she’d unhooked her bra and dropped it and she stood there perfectly naked. She looked at me, swallowed, and reached for the buttons of my jeans, fumbling with them.
Kicking my shoes off, I helped her. Our fingers tangled. We were definitely like teenagers now, and I realized I was going to be inside her bare. The idea made me crazy. Despite how cool I’d played it, I’d never fucked without a condom in my life. This was the right time to do it the first time. She was the right woman.
She was always the right woman.
When we were naked I pressed her against the door again, skin to skin. I let my hard length drag across her belly as I kissed her again, tasting her soft mouth. I was oversensitized, and every time she moved or breathed I felt it everywhere, like electricity.
Reluctantly, I pulled my mouth from hers. “We can do this however you want,” I said. Jesus, we hadn’t even made it into the apartment—some romantic I was. “The couch or the bed. Nice and slow or fast and rough. Whatever you want, Samantha.”
She reached up and pulled me down so I could smell her skin, damp now with a woman’s sweat and the smell of her need. “Aidan,” she said, “I feel like I’ve been waiting forever. Fuck me against the door.”
This woman.
I smiled against her skin. “All right, then. Hold on.”
Thirty-Two
Samantha
* * *
Fuck. I’d finally said it. Not have sex, or make love, but fuck. I hadn’t just said it, I’d told Aidan to do it. To me. Against a door.
And he’d said yes.
He cupped my ass as I wrapped my legs around his hips. He held me easily and I wrapped my arms around the smooth, hard muscles of his shoulders. He braced me, his long, hard body moving easily, taking my weight. It should have been awkward, but we moved in sync. It should have been unromantic, but it was perfect. We fit together like two pieces of a puzzle. Everything vanished—our real lives, who we were outside this apartment. Our jobs, our pasts. Even the game vanished right now, as I hooked my ankles together and opened to him and he slid into me.
He swallowed my gasp with a kiss. I was drenched, and he was slick inside me, bare. It felt so good. I was familiar with the feel of him, the push of him inside me, but skin to skin was different. I’d never done this with anyone before.
He pushed into me, then moved a little harder, using the resistance of the door behind me and his weight. He was deeper than he’d ever been, and the angle opened me completely. I was pinned, and at the same time I was gripping him, squeezing him, just as active as he was. I hooked my arms around his neck and felt him take me, and at the same time I felt myself take him. Again, and then again, and then again.
“Fuck, Samantha,” Aidan said against my neck, his voice rough. “Tell me you feel that.”
“Yes.” I could barely form even that one small word, my mind was so scrambled, my blood so wild. “Yes.”
