It’s not like the gentle kiss we shared in the hospital.
It’s more than the heated kiss after the fundraiser.
This is the culmination of all the emotions I’ve ever felt for Ainsley Morgan—the good and the bad—pouring out of me.
My tongue sweeps into her mouth as she opens, so willing and ready for me. There’s no hesitation. Her lips move over mine, strong and purposeful, owning me with each stroke of her tongue.
She fists the collar of my shirt, drawing me as close as possible. I sink my hands into her silky hair, gripping it tight so I can tilt her head and devour her the way I need to. Her sweet vanilla scent surrounds me. I want to drown in it. Want to drown in her.
But I need her on the same page.
I pull back, panting like I ran a mile. “Tell me this is what you want. Because if you don’t, I’ll stop right now and we won’t go any further.”
Hazel eyes bounce between mine, her chest heaving with her ragged breaths.
I promised her there’d be no interruptions next time.
That she’d be mine.
I need her to be sure this is what she wants, because once we start...I have no intentions on going back to anything less.
Three words rush out of her mouth. “I want this.”
I sweep her off her feet and into my arms, making my way out of the kitchen. I carry her down the stairs into the basement—which is slightly terrifying, if you know anything about basement steps.
Once we reach my bedroom, I drop her onto her feet.
“You’re a little winded.” Her fingers fumble for the buttons on my shirt. “Out of shape, Golden Boy?”
“It’s from carrying the weight of your giant ego.” I clutch her jaw and cover her lips with mine.
She peels off my shirt, letting it fall it to the floor.
Then I drop to my knees beside it.
Her eyes track my movement, as I start at the hem of her dress, sliding it up her thighs, and pressing a kiss to each new inch of revealed skin. At five-foot-eight, she’s all legs, long and toned from years of working out. Closing my eyes, I inhale. Even her legs smell like vanilla. I bite the inside of her thigh and she grips a fistful of my hair.
My hands slip the rest of the way under her dress until my fingertips hit the straps of her thong. I glance up at her, locking eyes, as I drag the thin material all the way down to her ankles.
Slowly, taking my time, my mouth makes its ascent. I trail my tongue along her skin, higher and higher, grinning as goosebumps raise along her thighs.
After teasing us both, I lift her dress over her hips so I can see her.
Fuck. Me.
Perfect, glistening lips wait for me.
“God, you’re so damn pretty.” My tongue skates over her, and my dick swells at the pleased sound that falls from Ainsley’s mouth.
I lick her in slow, languid strokes, savoring the sweet taste of her.
Ainsley lifts one leg and hooks it over my shoulder, holding the back of my head against her to let me know what she wants. My tongue circles her clit, and her hips rock, setting the rhythm for me.
I slide my hands around to her plump ass, squeezing as I moan against her pussy. My eyes flick up to her face, desperate to see the pleasure displayed on her features. She gazes down at me with hooded lids, her hazel eyes darkened, and lips parted as she pants.
Then her arms lift. Her fingers unfasten the buttons holding up her dress behind her neck, and the material drops forward.
“Goddamn,” I murmur. Small and perky, her breasts sit perfectly on her chest, with pretty pink nipples hardening under my gaze. I push off the floor and stand so I can swirl my tongue around one of them.
