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Leaning up against his bike waiting for me is Ares.
He meets my gaze. “How about that coffee?”
We tumble through my apartment door, kissing fiercely as we tear at each other’s clothes, desperate to get naked.
I don’t know why this is happening.
It’s definitely not part of the plan.
We had been coming back here for coffee, but then he had stopped me on the stairs, spun me around, and kissed me until my knees were weak and my bones were liquid.
And well… here we are.
Like I said, not a part of the plan.
But his kiss is like catnip, and I can’t get enough of it.
Maybe I’m still turned on by the way he watched me dance.
Or maybe it’s because I can’t remember the last time I was touched, and I want something other than my battery-operated boyfriend to make me come, and I’m pretty sure this guy will do that well.
Once inside the door, he shrugs off his leather cut and lifts his T-shirt over his head, revealing the muscled body of a god. He’s so rock-hard and built like every woman’s fantasy, it sends fire into every erogenous zone in my body.
I stand rooted to the spot, absorbing the inked monster in front of me.
His abdomen is a patchwork of tight muscle and deep grooves that flex with each fluid movement. His skin is dark and smooth, his hair flowing past his shoulders, tattoos inked everywhere. I soak in his broad chest, the six-pack, and the way the sharp V of his obliques disappears beneath the waistband of the jeans hanging low on his hips.
My mouth is suddenly dry.
Fuck the coffee.
Our eyes lock, and all common sense leaves me.
I want this.
God, I want this.
I want this so bad nothing else in the world matters.
Shirtless and in nothing but jeans, he lifts me into his arms and takes me toward the bedroom. He sets me down, and his big hands remove my clothes slowly, piece by piece, his blazing eyes not leaving mine until I’m standing before him in nothing but a pair of lace panties.
A smile of appreciation touches his lips. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he rasps.
I yank him toward me by the waistband of his jeans.
“And you have too many clothes on,” I say.
Wickedness gleams in his eyes. “Best you take them off me then.”
I reach for the button of his jeans. He doesn’t move as he watches intensely, his gaze searing into my skin as I lower the zipper. He’s hard, and when I see the rigid outline of his cock, my skin flushes with heat and excitement, and I swallow thickly.
The rumors are true. His cock is huge.
He steps out of his jeans and underwear and again I’m rooted to the spot, wondering how the hell I’m going to fit him inside me.
“I didn’t bring any protection,” he says. “Do you have anything?”
My stomach drops. “I don’t.”
