Page 7 of One Mistake

And now, there was no doubt in my mind. This was the girl from last night.

“Well, hello.”

She grinned. “Is this okay?”

I sounded like a teenager whose voice hadn’t quite managed the big change. “Yeah.” Okay wasn’t even close. Magnificent. A fucking religious experience.

The amount of clothes she’d walked in with, covering the goods, hadn’t distracted my memory, but my memory hadn’t done her justice. She was luscious. Curved in all the best places. And how the hell had I never noticed how exquisite she was? How her smile lit up her face and made me want to kiss her. Or maybe it had nothing to do with her smile. Maybe I just wanted to kiss her, and any reason would do.

I moved from the doorway to the bed. Three of the longest steps of my life. But finally. So close I could smell her perfume. Apples. Cinnamon. Light. Fresh.

Gloss on her lips. Twinkle in her eye. Tremor of her hand as she took her drink. It all worked against my control. I was every horny guy who’d ever been mesmerized by the pretty girl with the nice rack. My dick was hard enough to cut glass.

She set her tumbler on the bedside table then took mine to sit beside it.

Because the woman I’d been with last night was very different from the one here tonight, I wasn’t sure what to expect. Probably something vanilla. Probably missionary. Not that I was going to complain. Or that I wouldn’t take a few minutes later on to try to talk some adventure into her. But right now, whatever she wanted was what I planned to give her.

She knee-walked across the bed and dipped her finger into my collar to pull me close, tugging until I climbed onto the bed in front of her.

She chewed her lip, shy now and adorable. “I’m nervous.”

Naked and nervous. “That’s okay. We have time to work that out.”

But she picked up my hand, closed her eyes, and put my palm flat over her heart. “I want you.”

Fuck. Satin skin under my palm. A short breath burst from my lungs. Nothing in my life prepared me for the feel of her fingers caressing the back of my head as she stared into my eyes, for the slow rush of adrenaline when she leaned in and I got another whiff of her perfume, for the intensity and speed of my hard-on and the sudden desperation attached to it.

I wanted her in a way I didn’t understand. And I didn’t have time to figure it out, because if this opportunity passed before I could feel her pussy wrapped around my cock, I wouldn’t have a reason left to live. Poetic maybe. Dramatic probably. But real. Intense. So fucking ridiculous I wanted to snap my own neck, but not until I kissed every inch of her.

I leaned in and crushed our lips together while I dragged my hand from her hip to her rib cage and up. Her nipple pebbled between my fingers, and still, our tongues moved against each other, and her touch trailed over my skin, lifting the hem of my shirt.

We broke apart long enough to yank it over my head, could’ve been me or maybe it was her, but it didn’t matter. We were skin to skin, chest to chest.

I lost my usual finesse, the ability to roadmap my way down her body for the most possible pleasure impact. Instead, instinct took over. Need drove. Primal. Disorienting. Fucking perfect.

I kissed her throat then her jaw then her throat again. Hands in her hair then on her breast then lower and back again. Frenzied. Needy. Desperate to touch all of her.

My hand slipped down her belly then dipped between her legs and…fuck. She was so tight, so wet. And she whimpered when I touched her clit, then she curled her fingers around my wrist and held it there.

But I had to taste her.

And it was like she’d never been licked before. Her body writhed and she cried out with each flick of my tongue. She clenched a handful of my hair, and her thighs pressed against my ears. I didn’t care. Not so long as she didn’t try to push me away.

Her breaths came shorter, her muscles went tighter, and the way she came—powerful, loud—made me want to bury my cock deep inside of her. I wanted my dick to have the same satisfaction my fingers were getting.

“Holy shit.” She chuckled and lifted her arms languidly over her head. “If there’s a hall of fame for eating pussy, you’re getting a statue.” The bawdy talk made my dick even harder.

And I was busy rooting through the bedside table for a condom. Sweet Lord. There weren’t any left. Just an empty box. And I had a no glove, no love rule. Fuck!

I slammed the drawer shut. How the hell was there no condoms on a boat named Love Shack?

Finn. That rat bastard. Probably used them all and didn’t have the cash to replace them.

As I sat trying to figure out a way to make this work—because what were the chances I’d get a second bite of this apple—the bed shifted, and she nestled her chest against my back as she dangled a five-pack of condoms over my shoulder.

I glanced back. “Aren’t you just Miss Prepared?” And thank God for it.

“I wasn’t leaving anything to chance.”