A minute ago, I was ready to roast him over a pit, but now all I can do is breathe and try to resist the urge to wrap my legs around his hips and kiss him.
Like he can read my mind, he turns, still holding me in his arms, and takes two steps until my back is pressed against the wall and kisses me.
Everything inside of me melts the second his lips touch mine. One hand snakes up to bury itself in his hair. My other goes to his neck, anchoring his mouth on mine. My legs give in to the impulse to wrap around his hips. The second they do, he adjusts his hold on me, cupping my ass more fully in his huge hands and seating me fully against his dick, which is rock-hard.
I groan, rubbing myself against his dick.
Okay, as much as I don’t want to be the girl who looks a gift horse in the mouth . . . or in this case the girl who questions a hard cock . . . I pull away from the kiss to look at him. “Does this . . .” I rock my hips on the word “this.” “Mean you didn’t sleep with Lily McPherson?”
“Why the fuck would I have slept with her?”
I don’t answer but pull his mouth back to mine, because it feels so good to be held against him. It feels so right. And it’s what I need after the past thirty-six hours of not knowing what was going on between him and Lily. After the past eight days of not being with him.
His lips must be sprinkled with magic dust, because they make me forget all the reasons why this is a bad idea. Right now, in this moment, I don’t need more. I don’t need him to love me. I don’t even need him to fuck me. All I need is for him to keep kissing me like it’s more important to him than breathing.
He does just that.
He keeps kissing me like it’s the only thing he wants to do. Like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted to do.
He steps away from the wall and, for a second, I’m afraid that he’s going to set me down, but he doesn’t. Instead, his mouth still on mine, his hands still cupping my ass, keeping me firmly pressed to that amazing cock of his, he carries me out of the living room.
I barely notice the walk down the hall, through a doorway I assume leads to his bedroom.
He pauses just inside the door, lifting his mouth from mine, searching my face. “Is this okay?”
I nod. “Yes.”
“This is what you want?”
“Yes.”
He takes a step backwards, nudging the door closed with his back.
And then he’s kissing me again, his mouth moving over mine in a cascade of delicate kisses as he carries me to the bed.
He lays me down in the center of the bed, his hips between my open legs, rocking against my core, sending pulses of pleasure through my whole body.
He braces his forearms on either side of my head and raises up to look at me again.
“Because I don’t want this to be like last time,” he says, his voice low and growly as he buries his face against my neck. The scruff of his beard sends a flurry of tingles along my nerve endings. “I don’t want this to be just once. I don’t want to be quick. I need more.”
I nod desperately before realizing he can’t see me nod when he’s kissing my neck. So I say aloud, “Yes. All of that. Yes.”
And just in case he needs more encouragement, I reach down and tug his shirt out of the waistband of his jeans. I press my hands to his waist, reveling in the feel of the taut muscles that clench in response to my touch.
And then, he lifts his head, again. “Holly—”
I nearly scream in frustration. “Yes, I want you. I want this. I want you to fuck me. And I am definitely going to want you to keep fucking me for a very long time.” I rock my hips up, grinding myself against him. “But mostly I want you to start now, because you are killing me.”
His lips—those gorgeous full lips of his—curve into a smile. “Holly, I was just going to ask if the dogs are okay out there on their own or if I should crate them.”
“Oh.”
Oh God. This guy.
This guy is going to kill me.
Because no other man would worry about my dogs at a time like this and it’s the sweetest, sexiest thing in the universe that he does.
