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“I may have to take your car,” he answers.
“Or…” I whisper, resting my hands against his chest and slowly sliding down until they’re resting on his abdomen. The slight buzz I had earlier is completely gone, replaced with a different kind of buzz.
“Or…” he trails off. His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, and I can tell he wants to say something, but maybe doesn’t quite know if he should.
I should help him.
“Or, I could go back to your place with you, and you can take me home tomorrow,” I suggest, my fingers flexing against his six-pack.
Wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me into his body, his eyes seem to darken. “That sounds like an amazing idea.”
“A great one.”
“The fucking best.”
I hold my breath, hoping that he’ll kiss me, but he doesn’t. Instead, he opens the passenger door and helps me inside, before practically running around the front of the car to the driver’s side. When he slides into the seat, Nick hits his knees on the bottom of the steering column. He’s not that much taller than me, but I like to make sure I have complete control in my car with my seat close to the wheel.
The drive to Nick’s house is charged – sexually. He’s holding my hand and making slow circles on my palm with his pointer finger. The touch makes my heart beat faster and my underwear useless. I never knew one little graze like that could pack such a punch to the libido.
When we pull into his driveway a few minutes later, he opens the garage door. As soon as the car is shut off and the door closing, Nick jumps out and meets me at the passenger door. Stepping out onto the concrete, I’m immediately pulled into his arms.
“I’ve been thinking about kissing you for a week.”
“I’ve been wanting you to kiss me for a week,” I confess, a bit breathlessly, as his mouth moves to claim mine.
The kiss isn’t gentle, nor slow. It’s consuming and powerful. He takes the lead, threading his hands through my hair and gripping my head. My head tilts, allowing him the perfect angle to plunder my mouth with his tongue. My own hands reach around and grip the back of his shirt, holding on tight and refusing to let go. I can feel his very hard cock pressed against my stomach, practically begging to be taken out of his shorts.
And my word, do I want to.
After a few minutes, he rips his lips from mine. “I’m sorry. I’m not sure what came over me,” he pants against my lips.
“I kinda like what came over you, actually. I was thinking,” I start, gazing up into his lust-hazed eyes.
“What?”
“Maybe we can continue this inside.” Deep breath. “With less clothes.”
His eyes turn to lava, and his breathing hitches. “Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty sure I’ve never been so certain about anything in my life,” I reply honestly.
Nick watches me for a few moments, as if reading me like a book, before he brings his hands down to cup my ass, picking me up and bringing me into his body. My legs wrap around him as he slowly makes his way into the house, his lips kissing a blazing path down my neck as we go. I hear the door shut behind us, but pay no attention to anything other than the feel of him against me, his lips on my skin.
When we reach his bedroom, we fall together onto the mattress, my arms wrapping tightly around him as his lips meet mine. His hand moves down to my shirt, slowly pushing it upward and grazing his fingers across my abdomen. His touch is like fire dancing across my skin and seeping into my pores. It’s too much, and not enough, all at the same time.
His hands slide up and wrap around my heavy breasts. My nipples are hard as he gently glides a finger over each one, making me cry out. It feels so good.
“Does it?” he whispers, kissing along my jaw. At first, I don’t realize what he’s talking about, but then it hits me. I must have said it aloud.
“Yes. So fucking good,” I gasp as he does it again. This time, he pinches each nipple through the material of my bra, and I almost come off the bed. It’s been so long since I’ve felt this raw, this alive.
“Can I remove your shirt?” he asks, his eyes connecting with mine.
“I’d be a little sad if you didn’t,” I reply with a hint of a smile.
I help him shed my shirt, but I don’t stop there. I go ahead and unsnap my shorts, letting him know that they should go as well. His eyes are glued to my waist as I shimmy the denim down my legs and toss them aside. In one swift (and probably well practiced) move, his shirt is over his head and discarded.
I almost swallow my tongue.
