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He gave her a sidelong glance, sure he must’ve misheard. “Why?”
She gave a jerky shrug. “I can’t imagine being loved like that.”
The lump that formed in his throat was both annoying and unexpected. “It wasn’t enough.”
Her fingers tightened around his. “I’m so sorry. That’s why I called. Just to tell you that. I didn’t call because now you might be available and I might be able to talk you into letting me come over for a lunchtime blowjob.”
Now he stared. She’d turned pink during her litany. “Of course you didn’t. You really wanted to hit Bertha and piss me off. The blowjob was just a bonus.”
Laughing weakly, she pressed her free hand against her cheek. “God, I’m blushing.”
“Yes, you are,” he confirmed. “I like it. Makes you look even softer.”
She snorted. “Yeah, that’s me, the queen of all that’s delicate. That’s why I regularly win the belching contests at Loki’s.”
“Loki’s? You like it there?”
“It’s my favorite place. Best wings in town.”
“So why’d you suggest Carmen’s?”
Rory shrugged, not looking at him. “I thought it would be more appropriate.”
“For a man in mourning. Righ
t?”
“Maybe.”
He gripped her chin and turned her face toward him, moving forward to capture her lips. The salty flavor of them revived his interest all over again. “Thank you. For everything.”
“You’re, uh, welcome.”
He tipped his head to study her. Rory Fowler was a woman he’d happily study all day long. Even the sudden hint of wariness in her expression intrigued him. For once he’d prodded her off balance instead of the other way around. “You’re late for work, aren’t you?”
“Just a bit.” But she didn’t make a move to leave.
Once she did, he had no idea what would happen next. He’d slotted this misadventure into something that would happen only once, but nothing had gone as planned. He couldn’t pass up a chance to find out more about her, especially if the chance might not come again.
“Open your legs.”
Her gaze swung to his but she didn’t protest. Or ask questions. If she had, he might’ve chickened out. He ran his hand up the seam of her pants, learning how her flesh warmed with the slightest pressure. How she audibly sucked in air even when she wasn’t making those purring moans he found himself anticipating. The way her thighs opened for him as he drew his knuckles over the heat she couldn’t hide.
Her lips quivered apart, a sigh escaping them at his increased force. Was she wet for him? Though he didn’t trust his fingers not to shake, he had to know. He undid her pants and took his own unsteady breath at the sight of her lace-topped white cotton panties. Not built to seduce, just quietly pretty. Covering the heart of her that he ached to uncover, to explore.
He waited for her to say something. Anything. But she only watched him watching her, their equally ragged breathing fighting for dominance. With a flick of his fingers, he slipped beneath the cotton and absorbed the feel of her delicate skin, now way past warm. Past even hot. She burned for him. Skating lower, he brushed her thatch of damp curls. His heartbeat kicked up and that lightheaded sensation overtook him again, stealing his attention from her face for as long as it took him to get control. Then he met her eyes once more before he slid into the steam.
Her gasp exploded in his mind like a light bulb going brighter before it went out. She closed her eyes and rocked against his hand, encouraging him to continue.
So far so good.
He nudged her cleft—her very wet, very swollen cleft—with his middle finger, delving deeper to circle the knot of nerves. Another gasp reached his ears, but by then he’d turned his face into her neck to drink in her scent. She still smelled like a summer night, wild and untamed. Sweet and sexy and unforgettable.
His fingers moved in clumsy tandem, faster and faster, suddenly unable to go slow. He wanted her arousal pouring over his palm and he wanted it now.
Sliding lower, deeper, he dipped his thumb inside her tight slit and registered her shudder. Her head bounced once against the wall, rolling sideways as her lips opened on a whimper. Her flush spread from her cheeks to her neck and all the way down to the scalloped edge of the top she wore beneath her suit. She breathed out as he pumped deeper, forcing her cleavage against her jacket. Her nipples had to be hard, berries ripe for the plucking.
“Gotta see them,” he muttered, too low for her even to hear probably.
