Out of control, I moan, and he responds by moving his hands down to grab my waist, grabbing tightly, hooking around my body, and falling backward, taking me with him.
For someone who did a full one-eighty on me in the space of two days, he sure knows his way around my wants?—
The goddamn couch snaps. It’s louder than all of the noises it’s made so far, and the two of us open our eyes in shock.
His reaction is immediate. “Bed.”
I tumble off of the cursed couch and haul him up by the waist, practically dragging him along the short distance to my unmade bed. But instead of getting in, we both hover, still standing.
“Are you sure you want this?” I ask just in case, caution lining my voice.
He gives my chest a little nudge, and it sends me falling backward. “What do you think, man?” He chuckles as I stare up at his sexy, looming figure. “I want to strip you down to nothing.”
Fuck me sideways, I’d better not be dreaming.
I make a horny noise and manage a grin. “I’m all yours.”
Then he straddles me.
He fuckingstraddlesme with his thick thighs, and pins me down with that tantalizing ass of his.
And to top it off, he sticks his big hands underneath my shirt, running them along my stomach, and I have to throw my head back. The gentlest skin-to-skin touch sends an even bigger bolt of arousal spiraling down to my balls. He wants to strip me down to nothing, and I’m running out of patience for him to start.
“Don’t make me do all the work,” he teases.
“Are you…” I let out a scoff. I push myself up, and he meets me in the middle, his fingers skimming my jaw again and threatening to turn me into a puddle of pliant horniness.
I close what’s left of the gap between us and press my lips against his again, my brain flickering in and out of lucidity as his tongue breaches my teeth.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
NICK
Dean tastes like peppermint and sex. If anyone asks me what sex tastes like, there’s no way I could even begin to describe it, but I know it when I’ve got it. It’s something heady and unmistakable, and right now, Dean’s warm, gentle mouth has it in lethal concentrations.
My heart is in my throat, and it’s still because of nerves like last time, but they’re a different kind.
Not the painful nerves I felt two days ago—excited ones. The kind I get when I’m about to cliff-dive into a lake.
The kind I get when I’m kissing a guy I’m into, and who I’m—hopefully—seconds away from stripping naked.
Feeling bold, I bring a hand underneath his soft shirt again and venture further than before, savoring the addictive sensation of his smooth, round pecs that ratchets my arousal up even more. I don’t know who moans first—we both end up harmonizing with the urgent noises coming from the backs of our throats, and I chuckle, opening my eyes to meet Dean’s reverent, heated gaze. That’s the hottest thing I think I’ve ever seen, but again, I haven’t seen his dick.
His energy suggests it’s big.
The feeling of him grinding his bulge against mine all but confirms my speculation.
When I try to pull away for air, he sinks his teeth into my bottom lip and holds me in place before pulling us both down onto the mattress for more. My body lands on his, making the bedframe creak, and the only thing running through my head is how I really,reallyneed to feel my bare skin against his.The fabric between us is frustrating, and it needs to fuckinggo.
But I don’t want to stop making out with Dean; I reach for his shirt instead and tug at the bottom, hoping it serves as a hint.
This time, finally, he takes it, wriggling out from under me and yanking his shirt off to reveal his broad chest and the killer abs that I stupidly felt up last night.
I knew he was built, but seeing it for real again doesn’t compare to the tantalizing outline of his body everyone can see through his clothes. He’s definitely leaner than I am—deep, sexy ridges separate his abs, and the sweet divot between his pecs makes the tension in my groin thicken with every sustained second of staring. Goddamn, it’s like all the attraction I couldn’t feel for the last two years manifests all at once. There’s no way to deny it.
“Your turn.” Dean slips a hand under my own shirt, and I help him the rest of the way, watching his smile grow as soon as the fabric clears my head. Soon, though, his face is out of my line of sight, because it’s in my chest.
Fuck, yes, he’s kissing my chest—no, he’s burying his face in there. His lips are as warm and soft as they were when we were face to face, and hell if this doesn’t make me want to come on the spot.
