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Chapter 14
♥?♥?♥
Paula
BASTIAN FROZE WITH HIS PHONE HELDat his ear. His very conventional polo and slacks could not have looked hotter to her Bastian-starved eyes.
“Hey,” she said like a loon into the phone, even as he started tucking his own into a pocket. Embarrassed heat flooded her face. This was excessive. Her happiness was way over-the-top.
“I did call,” he said in a distracted way, taking in every detail of her.
Her not-yet-washed face with glasses askew. The flannel PJs. Bare, wiggly toes. Asymmetrical hair. Lack of bra.
His tongue came out to run along his lips. That’s when she noticed he was unshaven, his hair ruffled, and his eyes, though underscored with exhausted circles, were nearly solid black.
Pupil dilation. Either he’d just gotten out of bed or something else was dilating them.
“What’s that playing?” he said huskily.
“Christmas music.”
He reached for her and then he was kissing her.
Instincts took over and she moved in, instantly lifting up her face. He pressed hard into her middle back, raising her up onto her toes, into his chest. With both hands she grasped for the biceps of his arms, completely forgetting one was holding the phone, and it clattered to the floor.
He said something into her mouth. The words themselves seemed less important than the movement of his mouth, which she was trying to drink down. Meanwhile, he tried to taste every section of her lips.
He moved forward into the condo, never stopping what his mouth was doing. Instead of moving correspondingly backwards, she decided to cling with her legs and arms, all the arousal from last night powering her grip around him.
Dingdong! Are you out of your mind?The sensible alarms rose, but her pre-coffee brain heard them as a cheering section, rooting her on.This is crazy! Leap up! Go wild! Climb that man!
All because of a frustrating night working herself to exhaustion, hounded by a sense of incompletion.
He turned his head to say another thing, and again she registered little aside from the low, rough sound of the words. She held his hard cheeks firmly in place so she could brush her lips over the coarseness of his dark stubble. The sting set her on fire.
Cursing. Yes, that was what he was doing, she realized dreamily. Probably something filthy. His throaty voice reverberated through her, saying all sorts of unholy things.
And then his mouth put a halt to her beard fondling and it wasn’t kissing anymore.
Or not nice kissing. Not sleepy kissing, discovery kissing. This was biting and sucking and hot, plunging tongue and her breasts wide awake and her thighs trembling andoh fuck but now she throbbed.
“Paula, shit.” His left hand clutched her rear, taking her off the floor completely so her lower belly cushioned his hard, rigid length.
She wiggled and circled, rubbing across it, lighting more fires to a new level of need. Ironically it sparked some corner of sanity in her brain. “Wait,” she moaned. “Bad. Bad to jump into bed without small talk.”
“I waited all night, all night, woman,” he groaned.
“We know virtually nothing about each other.” She contorted herself, trying to raise the jersey fabric over his abdomen.
“Are you serious?” He was leaning back, allowing her to yank the shirt up. “After yesterday what else do you need to know?”
“The formalities, Bastian, Merry Christmas, good morning, and where were you born?”
“Where was I born? New Highland, where were you born? Good morning.” The shirt went over his head. He let her slide down his body, hopping on one leg to grab his sock.
Something was odd about that, but she was rushing too fast to stop to figure it out.
“Seattle. Have you ever taken the monorail there?” She wiggled out of her pajama bottoms, leaving her white reindeer panties on.
