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She wasn’t anymore. He’d seen to that. Now she was his.
He picked her up, because he liked to do that, and carried her toward the stairs. She wrapped her arms around his neck and kept on kissing him, and they went down the hall, to that room, where they had shared a bed, because this time, he aimed to share it with her properly.
The curtains were still drawn around it, and he pushed them aside and set her down on the blankets.
“You know,” she said. “None of it’s actually dusty.”
“You know, I wouldn’t have cared if it was. Because all I can think about is being inside of you again.”
“I might’ve thought about the dust. But I appreciate that as a ringing endorsement of my sexual prowess.”
“You wouldn’t have been thinking about dust.” He kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck. “I would’ve made sure of that.”
He laid her back on the bed and let the curtain swing shut. It was dim behind the curtains, but he liked the intimacy that it gave. He stripped her shirt slowly from her body, and even in the dim light, he could see her shape just fine.
He unhooked her bra and threw it to the side. And he was in awe. Of the fact that he could do this with her now. That she was his, and he could just look his fill when he wanted to. No more restraint. No more pretending she wasn’t the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
He moved to her jeans next, stripped her completely of her clothes and admired all of her. Her stomach, the curves, the dips, her belly button. That downy patch of pale curls at the apex of her thighs. Her legs.
All of her.
She had always been the strongest, funniest woman he’d ever known, and on some level, he’d known she was the sexiest, but he’d tried to keep himself from living in that space. And now he’d moved in permanently.
She was everything.
Absolutely everything.
He kissed her neck, her breasts. Kissed her until she was shivering. Teased them both.
And then suddenly, he felt her hand pressed against the center of his chest, pushing him away. She sat up, grabbing hold of the hem of his shirt and pulling it up over his head. It was like she had come alive with need. She explored his body, kissed his chest, went down his abs and started to undo his belt. And he knew where this was going next, and he did not have the fortitude to stop it. She unzipped his jeans and wrapped her hand around his arousal, exposing him. She pushed his pants and underwear down, and with her hand wrapped firmly around the base of him, leaned in and took him into her mouth.
“Shit,” he said, grabbing hold of her ponytail and holding tight.
“I’ve never done this before,” she said.
And hell. That just about took him out. Then and there.
It was nearly over before it started.
“Damn, woman. You can’t just say things like that.”
“But I want you. I want this. I want you to know that you’re the only one. I want you, with all your marriage proposal, and your certainty to know, that you’re the man I fantasized about. You’re the man that I wanted. You’re the only man I wanted to lick like this.” And she made direct eye contact with him while she slid her tongue from the base of his shaft all the way to the tip. “You’re the only one I ever wanted to take in deep.”
And that was exactly what she did next. And all he could do was hang on. Let her pleasure him. Let her make him his. He wanted her. He wanted this. This was her staking her claim. His had been a marriage proposal, while she was branding him with his own desire. Letting him know that he would never, ever own his own need again. Because it would always be in the palms of Cara Summers’s hands.
He let her pleasure him like that until it became too much. Until he got too close to the edge.
“Come on,” he said, his voice rough. “I want to be inside you.”
“You were inside me,” she said, a little grin tugging at the corners of her mouth.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t. You’re gonna have to tell me.”
“I want inside where you’re all wet for me. Just for me. You saved that for me too, didn’t you?”
And he would never see anything half so beautiful as his best friend blushing over his dirty talk for her.
