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Twelve
Okay, yes. He would hand it to Sabrina that this situation was a little...odd. Not their usual mode of operation and possibly a bad idea for the reason she’d placed at the top of both lists: they were best friends.
But there was something to say for the impulsiveness of the Valentine’s Day kiss on the pier. And there was even more to say about the kiss in his kitchen that was as premeditated as they came.
“You’re worrying about...this ruining our friendship?”
A strangled sound left her throat like she couldn’t believe he’d asked that question. “Aren’t you?”
“I’m not worried about anything. I was told to take a hiatus for the specific reason of not worrying about anything. Isn’t that right?”
Her posture relaxed some, her legs moving slightly under the blanket. Her bare legs. Her long, smooth, bare legs.
He wanted to touch her, and not in a soothing way. Not in a consoling way.
He wanted to touch her in a sexual, turn-her-on, see-what-sounds-she-makes-when-she’s-coming way. If she decided she’d have him, he’d take her upstairs before she could say the words plus or minus.
“What do you suggest we do, Flynn? Sit here and make out?”
“That’s a good start.”
Her delicate throat moved when she swallowed, her eyes flaring with desire.
Yeah, she wanted him, too. It was time she stopped denying it. He set his ice cream bowl aside and carefully took her hot tea from her hands.
“I wasn’t done with that.”
“You’re done with that.”
When he reached for the blanket, her hand stopped him. They were frozen in that stance, his hand on her blanket-covered thigh, her hand on his hand and their eyes locked in a battle that wasn’t going to end with them going to separate bedrooms if he had anything to say about it.
“Do you want this?” He watched her weigh the options, jerking her gaze away from his and opening her mouth ineffectually before closing it again. “It’s a simple question, Sabrina. Do you want this?”
“Yes—”
He didn’t let her finish that sentence—finishing it for her by sealing his lips on hers in a deep, driving kiss as he tore the blanket from her lap. She caught his face with her palms, but leaned into him, opening her soft mouth and giving him a taste of what he hadn’t gotten enough of earlier this evening.
He ran his hand over her knee to her outer thigh and then to her panties. They weren’t the thong he’d expected, but he couldn’t care less. She wasn’t going to be wearing them long.
After gliding her fingertips over his jaw and his neck, she rerouted and grazed the light patch of chest hair over one nipple. He groaned into her mouth. She responded with a kittenish mewl before digging her blunt fingernails into his rib cage in an effort to draw him closer.
It was the encouragement he needed.
Shifting his weight so he wasn’t crushing her, he flattened a palm on her back and pulled her to him. She came willingly, both hands on his abs as he switched their positions and reclined on his back.
With her on top, he held her thick hair away from her face and continued kissing her, the position reminding him of the erotic dream he’d had not so long ago. The strands of her hair tickled his cheeks and her breath came in fast little pants when he gave her a chance to catch it.
It felt good to feel good. It had been a long time for him. And according to her, a really long time since Sabrina had felt this good. He couldn’t think of a single reason not to make love to her right here on this couch.
He wanted to bury the past year in the soft lemon scent of her skin and give in to the attraction that had rattled them both for the last week-plus. Maybe longer, if he was honest.
She sat up abruptly like she might shove him away, but instead she crisscrossed her arms, grabbed the hem of her shirt and whipped it over her head. Flynn had thought her legs were amazing. Sabrina’s legs had nothing on her breasts. Her small shoulders lifted and he zeroed in on her nipples—dark peach and too tempting to resist. He stole a quick glance at her and grinned, and when she grinned back it was as good as permission.
Propped on his elbows, he wrapped one hand around her rib cage and took one beautiful breast deep into his mouth. He let go, teasing and tickling her nipple with his tongue. Her cute kittenish mewls from earlier were long gone. He was rewarded with the sultry moans of a woman at the pinnacle of pleasure. He couldn’t allow her to reach the pinnacle yet. There was more to do.
Turning her so her back was to the couch, he gave himself more room to maneuver. He slipped his fingers past the edge of her red panties to stroke her folds. She was wet and she was warm and she was also willing to reciprocate.
While he worked over her other breast, his fingers moving at a hastened speed, she cupped his shaft and gave him a stroke. And another, and then one more, until he had to pull his lips from her body to let out a guttural groan.
