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I give myself over to the kiss, lifting my hands to his face, loving the slight scratch of his five o’clock shadow against my palm, the silky waves of his hair between my fingers.
He continues to hold my head still as he explores my mouth, the kiss slow, thorough, and completely him.
His other hand is everywhere, drifting restlessly over my back, butt, hips…
He slides his hand up my side, and we both gasp as the heel of his palm brushes the outside of my breast. Since I was planning on staying home and watching TV, I’m not wearing a bra.
Andrew pulls back, gazing down at me. We’re both breathing hard, and he looks as unbalanced as I feel at how quickly we went from simple kiss to blistering want.
He lifts his hands so that my face is framed in both palms. “Georgiana—”
Terrified that he’s about to say something logical that will make all the kissing stop, I go on my toes and press my lips to his.
“Please don’t put some sort of esquire spin on this,” I whisper against his mouth.
He lets out a quiet laugh, pulling back just slightly. “Esquire’s not an adjective.”
“Sure it is,” I say, trailing my lips over his jawline, since it’s all I can reach. “Synonym: stodgy. Definition: prone to overthinking.”
Andrew slides his hands from my face down my shoulders to my hips, where his fingers curl possessively over my butt. “Stodgy, huh?”
I nip his chin. “A little. Sometimes.”
His head dips as he brushes his lips against mine, teasing, refusing to deepen the kiss. “Perhaps. But not all the time.”
My lips part to tell him to prove it, but he’s one step ahead of me, and the only thing that comes out is a surprised gasp as he guides me backward before easily hoisting me onto the kitchen counter.
He sets his mouth against my throat and my head falls to the side.
“I didn’t ask,” he says, planting warm kisses along my neck. “How are you feeling?”
“Right now? Never been better,” I whisper, pulling his mouth back to mine.
Andrew slips his hands under my sweater as we kiss, his palms roaming over my back, warm skin on warm skin. His breath shudders just a little, and I smile against his mouth, loving all these little chinks I’m finding in Andrew Mulroney’s armor.
He pulls back, raising his eyebrows in challenge at my amusement. He holds my gaze as his hands slide around to my front, fingers tracing the outer slope of my breasts lightly before withdrawing contact.
I whimper, and he watches me knowingly as he takes his time returning his hands to me. Then his thumbs are hovering over my nipples, a torturous non-touch that has me arching my back with a helpless plea.
There’s nothing stodgy about the way he teases me, cupping my breasts in his palms before pulling back to pluck at the sensitive tips.
I wiggle closer, tugging frantically at my bulky sweater, sighing in relief as he helps me lift it over my head and toss it aside.
The look on his face when he sees my bare chest is flattering, but I like even better the greedy way his mouth goes to my breasts. His tongue flicks across a nipple before drawing it warmly into his mouth, hungry for me.
But I’m hungry for him too, and I endure the sweet ecstasy for only a minute before my legs wrap around his waist, my hands tearing at the buttons of his shirt.
I hate that he put this on for Hailey, hate that he was thinking of spending tonight with anyone but me, and I make him pay for it. My nails rake his skin as I take in the upper body that’s every bit as impressive as I expected it to be given his gym-rat habits.
“Not bad, lawyer,” I say, my fingers touching every perfect ridge of his six-pack. His eyes close as I explore his skin, his breath hitching in and out with need, and though I don’t think I’ve ever wanted a sexual encounter as badly as I want this one, I’m struck with an unprecedented wave of tenderness.
I lean forward and set my mouth on the warm hollow at the base of his throat, a gentle kiss that conveys things I don’t know how to say any other way.
I feel his palm against my face, his fingers brushing the hair at my temple in an answering caress.
His lips find mine, and our eager hands explore downward. I’m wearing yoga pants, so he’s got the advantage, easily pulling them down over my legs before I have a chance to undo his belt buckle.
Lucky for me, he’s feeling helpful, and moments later we’re down to the last barrier: my thong, his black briefs. (Of course he would be a briefs guy, and it’s hot.)
