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At last, Striker moved back to look at her. His eyes were sparkling, and his smile was wide. “I can see that big brain of yours is apt to derail us if we let it. I don’t think you’re ready for touching without supervision, so this is how we’re gonna do things—”
“I don’t want to have sex anymore,” she interrupted. And yes, she was pouting. “I don’t think it works for me. I’m fairly certain I won’t enjoy it and you won’t, either. I think we should forget about the sex thing and concentrate on the research part of the deal.” She thought about it. That seemed a tad harsh. “We can kiss,” she amended. She liked his kisses, and he hadn’t complained about hers. Yes, kissing would be okay. “But nothing else. I don’t like sex. I’ve tried it, and it was awful. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. So, do we have a deal?”
“Oh, we have something, that’s for sure. I just don’t know what to call it yet.”
With that cryptic statement, he closed the gap between them and covered her mouth with his. His lips were soft and firm and delicious. Yes. She could do kissing. But nothing else. And then his hand slid down her throat to cup her breast, and Friday thought maybe she could do that, too. But nothing else. And then, his tongue delved into her mouth, and she lost track of all her thoughts. When he pulled away, she mewled her annoyance—sounding more like a disgruntled kitten who’d lost its favorite toy than a full-grown woman.
“From now on…” His voice was rough against her lips. “I’m in charge in bed.” He cocked his head as though thinking about it. “And out of bed, too. But definitely in bed. You can touch me all you like, but you don’t get to take over.”
That didn’t sound fair at all. “Why not?”
“Because the only way we’ll get your brain to shut down long enough for us both to enjoy this is if I make sure you’re too lust-dazed to think.”
“I’m not sure I like your attitude.” Although, she couldn’t exactly disagree with him.
“Bébé.” He nuzzled at her throat, pressing into her and making her breasts flatten against his firm chest. Her hips rose up to meet him. Why did it still feel like there was too much distance between them?
“I want to touch you, too. You said I could play.”
“Oh, you can play. You can touch me all you like. But you’re a beginner, bébé. Your brain short circuits your body when you try anything beyond your level. Until you’ve reached the advanced level, you can only play when I’m touching you, too.”
He bit the muscle where her shoulder met her neck and she gasped. Her fingernails dug into his shoulder.
“That doesn’t sound fair.” Her protest was breathless and distracted.
He kissed his way up her throat to her ear. “Don’ worry, you’re a fast learner. You’ll reach the advanced level in no time at all.”
Her body was undulating beneath his. His touch making her lose track of reality. She wanted to float away on the sensations he provoked. She actually had to fight to think straight. “Is there a textbook on this?”
He pulled her earlobe between his lips and nibbled. Oh! Why did that feel so good?
“I’ll find one for you,” he whispered against her ear, making her gasp.
His voice should be outlawed. It made her blood turn to molten honey.
“One what?” She arched her neck, exposing her throat for him.
“Exactly.” He nibbled along her jaw and down her throat.
She hooked her leg over his thigh. She needed. Oh, how she needed.
“Striker?” It was a plea for something she didn’t fully understand and instinctively knew he could supply.
“Don’ worry, bébé, I got you.”
She ran her hand over his smooth head, searching for hair to cling to and finding none. Somehow the frustration of not being able to hold his hair made her need heighten. She moaned as his mouth moved down her body to her breasts, tasting and biting and kissing. Her skin was on fire. She felt like she was burning up from the inside out.
“Please, Striker, please.”
She didn’t know what she was begging for, but he did. He captured her nipple with his mouth and sucked hard, pressing it against the roof of his mouth.
“Yes!” Her back arched, offering her body up to him.
Her mind was filled with fog. But this fog wasn’t cold and isolating. It was a warm, delicious mist that carried her away from everything except his expert touch. She floated on sensation, desperate for more. Nothing had ever felt this good. The press of his body against hers. The feel of his wide, strong hands holding her firmly, anchoring her lest she float away entirely. And his mouth. His mouth was wickedly wonderful. He was a master at giving pleasure, demanding she take what he gave her, demanding she enjoy everything he did to her. And she was more than willing to comply to those demands.
His mouth moved lower as his hands shaped and caressed every inch of her. Little bursts of color flashed inside her eyelids. Fireworks, he was making fireworks. She felt hot. Needy. Desperate for more.
“Please!”
