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“You’re welcome.” I rub my thumb over her knuckles. “Griff says he should be able to drop your car off in the morning.”
“Did he say how much it’ll be?”
“Don’t worry about it.” It’s an amount I can easily cover.
“Dex,” she protests. “I can’t—”
“It’s fine.”
Her jaw ticks but she drops it. For now.
CHAPTEREIGHT
Dex
“That was incredible. Thank you, Emily.”I stand and pat my stomach. “Let me help you clean this up.”
Her cheeks flush, like she’s pleased or embarrassed by the compliment—I can’t tell. “Thanks. It’s usually just me and Libby, and she’s happiest with a fluffernutter sandwich or pizza.”
“Fluff, huh? I haven’t had that since I was a kid.”
“It’s sticky and gross and gets all over everything.” She shrugs. “But Libby loves it, so whatever.”
I don’t know my way around her kitchen, so I mostly watch as she pulls out plastic wrap and organizes what’s left over to store in the fridge. Once she’s finished, I grab a plate and follow her. She leans over, her dress gaping in the front just enough to flash a glimpse of blue satin and lace against pale skin. My free hand curls into a fist at my side so I don’t palm her breast. I shift a few inches to the right. This angle’s worse. Now I’m staring at her perfectly round ass hidden by thin fabric.
I’ve held myself in check all night. I can restrain myself for a few more minutes.
“Other one?” She holds out her hand without looking at me.
I pass her the plate.
It would be so easy to drag that dress up over her legs. See if her panties match her dress too.
She backs away from the fridge, closes the door, and turns. I’m so busy fantasizing about exposing her ass that I’m blocking her path. Her elbow hits me in the chest and my control snaps. I barely feel the impact. But it seems to be the cue for my baser instincts to take over.
I curl my hands around her waist and yank her closer.
“Sorry,” she squeaks.
“Don’t be.” I tip her chin up and slide my fingers into her hair. “I’m not.” That’s the only warning she gets. I lean down and brush my lips over hers. A quick taste. Long enough to know I need more. “I was trying to be a polite guest, but I’ve wanted to do this all night.”
This time she meets me halfway. Leaning up on her tiptoes, she slides her arms around my neck. Our lips fuse together, soft and tentative at first. She makes a noise in the back of her throat, like a primal call for more. I squeeze and lift her against the front of my body and shoulder my way into the living room. Where the fuck is her bedroom? Probably upstairs.
Couch.
Couch is good.
Our connection flares to life and pulses around us. She drags me down onto the cushions, barely breaking our kiss. Our legs tangle and she almost slides off the edge of the couch to the floor. I pull away and she scoots into the corner then curls her hand in my T-shirt, drawing me closer. I fit my hand over her hip, tucking her under me, and keep kissing her. My thumb brushes against the wide belt at her waist and I splay my hand over her stomach, searching with my fingers for a way to undo the contraption. Maybe it’s welded shut? Giving up on the belt, I slide my hand up over her ribs. I reach the top button of her dress and tease it between my fingers.
“May I?” I stare down at her and tug on the button.
She nods quickly, her eyes glued to my hand working the button free. I’ve never unfastened anything so quickly in my life. I work each one loose until the belt—that seems to be cemented into place—stops me.
Eager to see her, I push the sides of her dress out of my way. I rub my knuckle over the swells of her breasts. “Your bra matches your dress. I like that,” I rasp, staring and burning every inch of her into my brain.
She laughs, low and husky. “I swear I wasn’t planning to show it off tonight.”
“I’m not complaining.”
