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“All right,” he says, chuckling. His arms slide around me and cup my ass. “I get it. I’m hot.”
I burst out laughing. “Yes, you are. And so humble.”
Bending down, he kisses my neck and then nibbles on my earlobe. “You are, too.” When he rubs against me, I can feel he might be ready to prove that the i-word isn’t in his body’s vocabulary.
I open myself up to him by bending my neck to the side, and then ask, “I’m humble?”
He chuckles, a warm breath breezing across my skin. “You are and very hot.”
“Hot and humble. I have absolutely no problem with those descriptors.” Wrapping my arms around his neck in hopes of keeping him exactly where he is, I close my eyes and enjoy his lips on my skin. I even find myself rubbing against him because I wouldn’t be upset if he wanted to go for round two.
Am I ready?
Physically—my body is.
Emotionally—my heart is ready for the journey.
Coming around to my mouth, he kisses me and quickly deepens it. Cooper is so sweet to me, kindness residing in his eyes every time he looks into mine, careful, cautious, caring about my feelings and taking care of me when I was sick.
Obviously handsome.
Thoughtful for bringing lunch.
But he’s also here, has had no issue spending time in my space, and has never once demeaned it—or me.
The thousand-dollar tip still needs to be discussed, but this isn’t Indecent Proposal. He didn’t buy my time or my body. He appreciates every inch, including the ugly and damaged parts of me, and makes sure I’m taken care of in all ways before thinking of himself.
Holding him tighter, I push up against him, relishing the feel of his erection and savoring the tingling sensation zipping through my body. I’ve been numb for years, going through life with nothing more than my full attention on surviving and getting out of this town. With Cooper, I feel alive. My body reacts to his. It’s been nice to stay in the present, to live the past few days without a grand plan in place, to wing the hours and do what feels good, what feels right.
I hadn’t even realized what my days had become until Cooper showed up and flipped my life on its axis.
His kisses make me weak in the knees and horny for more. “I’m ready,” I whisper against his mouth through shortened breaths.
Bending back just enough to catch my eyes on him, he smiles. No smirk is found, just that smile of his that puts me at ease. “You’re sure?”
“Are you trying to talk me out of it?”
“Nope.” Scooping me into his arms, he sits on the bed with me across his lap and caresses my cheek.
Before he has a chance to say anything, I feel my heart racing, but ask, “Do you have a condom?”
He dips his chin. “I have one.”
I’m not sure how I feel about that. I should be grateful he has one since the box I bought in anticipation of this moment has probably expired. “You’re prepared.”
As if he can read my mind, he kisses my forehead, then leans back again. “I don’t usually carry condoms around with me, but . . .” He glances toward the window and back to me. “After the past few times we spent here, I felt we were progressing in that direction.”
His response settles me, easing my mind with his reasoning. “We are, and I’m ready.” I lean forward, cupping his face and kissing him again. This time, I don’t stop. I maneuver off his lap and move over him until he’s on his back.
Gripping me by the hips, he slides us to the middle of the bed while staying on his back and keeping his lips connected with mine. His hands run under my top and straight to my chest as he cups my breasts over my beige bra. Beige. Why’d I have to grab the boring beige bra?
There’s nothing sexy about it, but he makes me feel like it is, like I am. The kneading, the flick of his thumbs over my nipples, the feel of him between my legs have me closing my eyes and dropping my head back, taking in the pleasure as it swims through me and releases in a breathy sigh of bliss.
His image spins in my head, but then I look down to see the real thing. Cooper’s gaze meets mine but only briefly. He sits up enough to pull my top over my head. He’s quick to lie back, returning his hands to my boobs. They’ve always been big for my frame at a small C, but in his hands, they seem smaller.
“I like your tits,” he says.
I don’t think a guy has ever called them that so bluntly as if that’s their name. Sort of crude yet so sexy in the context of what we’re doing. Bending forward, I let his hands roll over my breasts while I wiggle on top of his erection. “I like your dick.”
