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She giggled and picked up a piece of pepperoni, stuffing it in her mouth. She’d no sooner swallowed it that she thought that might be a deterrent to more making out, but then again, West was plowing through his slice beside her so he wouldn’t judge.
Maybe making out wasn’t even on the table anymore. West was a nice guy who didn’t want to take advantage. She appreciated that so much, but at the same time, she was kind of overdue. At this point, it wasn’t so much taking advantage as helping a girl out.
As difficult as it was, she focused on the show. It was easy enough to relax and laugh with West, almost as if they’d known each other for years. Ignoring the sexual tension between them, he already felt like a friend. Someone she could trust. He might nudge her past her boundaries, but at a speed that felt safe.
The rerun went into another, this one the Thanksgiving episode. West knew that one too, and agreed that Brad Pitt had been pretty hot back then. Still hot, but super hot in the old days. He didn’t even blink at agreeing either. Clearly, West was totally at ease with his sexuality. As well he should be.
Golden Girls was up next, and she expected him to change the channel. Instead he tossed out their paper plates and stretched out beside her, extending his long legs into the aisle as he draped his arm around her shoulders to toy with her hair. It wasn’t a move meant to seduce—at least she didn’t think so—but she was instantly watchful. She sat up straighter, not so subtly pushing out her breasts. She didn’t have to do much. West flipping through the ends of her still wet hair had her nipples hardening in a flash.
Other things were happening too. She was wet all over, and not just from the remnants of her shower.
When he pulled her into his side, almost encouraging her to cuddle, she gave in to the urge to touch his chest. Tentatively at first, then with growing boldness. The contours of his muscles felt good under the cotton, but she wanted, needed, more. Still pretending to be focused on the TV, she dipped her hand underneath the fabric, easing her fingertip into the slash of his belly button before climbing higher. Fanning out her fingers to stroke all that hot, hair-roughened skin.
Gently, he tugged her head back by her hair, bringing her mouth to his. This time, he took it harder, took her harder, his tongue delving between her lips with a sureness that stole the last of her reservations.
He knew what he was doing. There wasn’t a chance in hell he’d botch this. She was almost positive she wouldn’t either. Not when her movements were this instinctive. This right.
Without stopping the kiss, he rolled just enough so that she was pinned beneath him against the back of the sofa. His heavy lids lifting, that trusting green somehow seeking permission before he molded his lips to her again and his hands wandered. They weren’t shy either. One of them closed around her breast and she sighed, making him chuckle.
But he wasn’t laughing at her. It was as if this night was a secret they shared. Something that made no sense, that never should’ve happened, but was anyway.
His thumb circled her stiff tip and she bit her lip, placing her hand on his jaw to draw him back. She had to watch him as he touched her, so he could see everything he was giving her on her face. He needed to know exactly how he was making her feel.
All her doubts were gone.
He pushed up her shirt and she cupped her breasts out of reflex, not because she truly wanted to cover herself. He didn’t move them away, just kissed her again, his mouth sliding over hers until she had no choice but to reach for him. She had to keep her hands on him. He nudged her hair away from her neck, kissing his way down her throat, his lips warm and wet. Arousing. She dragged her nails through his hair, sinking them into his scalp at the first flick of his tongue on her nipple. Barely a hint of sensation and she jolted off the sofa.
God, she didn’t know if she could handle this.
Half sitting up, he sucked delicately on the tip, his green gaze meeting hers. She gasped and writhed, shocked by the sensation of his tongue curling around her sensitive flesh. His other hand came up to support her other breast, his deft fingers plucking at the tight nipple. Making it more so. She shifted beneath him, biting down on her lip to try to hold back the sounds determined to escape.
“Don’t.” He scraped his teeth over her throat. “Give me every one of those moans I earned.”
“I don’t know how.” She wasn’t even sure what she was saying. Or what was happening to her body. It was as if she was being consumed by heat with every caress of his gaze.
Never mind when he actually touched her.
“You’re doing just fine.” He lifted his head as she shifted restlessly beneath him. “Your breasts are gorgeous. Just like the rest of you.” He moved his mouth to her ear and gave the lobe a slow suck. “I want to see everything.”
For probably the first time in her life, she didn’t have a joke or a smart remark. She pushed at the waistband of his boxers, needing them down. She wanted everything at once. Couldn’t settle, couldn’t breathe.
He hooked his finger in the waistband of the boxers she wore and slid her other nipple into his mouth, skimming his teeth ever so gently over her skin. She rocked into the sofa, half mindless already. His gaze stayed on hers, endlessly patient.
If it took her all night to come, she knew he’d wait.
He tugged down her boxers while he drew on the taut peak, his hypnotic eyes entrancing her to the point where she couldn’t focus on anything else but them. He bit down and her clit pulsed in time with the sharp twinge in her nipple, taking her by surprise. She gripped the cushion beside her and he stopped undressing her long enough to bring her hand to his shoulder. “Don’t stop touching me,” he murmured, and she couldn’t do anything but nod.
Kneeling on the floor in front of her, he tugged the material down her thighs, stopping as her mound came into view. She forget her edict to keep her hands on him and tossed one arm over her eyes, hiding from his perusal.
That worked for about ten seconds.
He pulled her arm away and brought her hand back to his shoulder again. “You’re beautiful,” he breathed, and there was no way she could deny the truth on his face.
“I didn’t…I don’t…” She heaved out a breath. “I wasn’t prepared for this. Wax to me is what they make candles out of. I don’t put it near my delicate parts.”
She expected him to laugh as he
would have earlier. He just traced the scant curls that guarded her lower lips, tugging them lightly, his expression so carnal she couldn’t find anything else to say.
