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An apology, probably.
“You need me to apologize,” he said, as if he’d read my mind. “And I will. Thoroughly. When you’re wrapped in sweats and a sweatshirt so I don’t have to keep fighting the urge to grab your juicy ass and take a fucking bite out of it.”
My face burned. “Fine. We’ll shower—but it has to be fast. And I don’t want you to get off. If we could touch each other, I wouldn’t let you fuck me right now.”
“That’s fair.” He wrapped his hand around my crotch, gripping it hard as he dragged the base of his palm over my clit. Then, as if he’d made up his mind about something, he lifted me by that grip on my core and hauled me back inside.
The door slammed—and then locked—behind us, and I tried like hell not to grab his gigantic arm as he carried me up the stairs like that.
My ass met the bathroom’s countertop.
He started the shower, then growled at me, “Tell me I can touch you.”
I blinked. “You can’t, remember?”
“Through your clothes, Mo. Tell me I can touch you and taste you through your clothes.” He leaned toward me, stopping when our noses and lips were only a breath apart. Something about the look in his eyes was wild. Feral. Savage.Desperate. He finally added, “I need you.”
A shuddered breath escaped me. “Okay.”
His fingers hooked in the waistband of my leggings a heartbeat later, and he lifted me off the counter long enough to rip my leggings down my thighs, exposing those little lace panties
A rumble rolled through him when my pants hit the ground.
My tank top followed, and then my bra landed on the floor too.
“Spread your legs,” he growled at me.
My breathing picked up as I silently opened my thighs for him.
A fierce groan escaped him. “Fuck, I miss watching my cock slide in and out of you.”
Shit.
I missed that too.
I was breathing fast already, when he leaned in and dragged his tongue over the fabric covering my clit. He’d made me wet a few times that day—when he’d gripped my ass in every pair of panties I’d tried on. When he’d had to tuck his erection away every damn time we left a changing room. When he growled to me that the next time we went shopping, I’d ride his cock on that tiny little changing room seat between outfits.
Yeah.
He’d made me wet.
Which he’d undoubtedly taste on the fabric against his tongue.
With a snarl, he surged forward and captured my clit between his teeth.
A hiss escaped me. “I need soft and slow right now, Ax.”
He bit down on me harder, and I fought to keep myself from wrapping my thighs around his head. But a heartbeat later, he released the swollen, sensitive bud, and dragged his tongue slowly over the front of my panties.
I rocked against him, moaning and gripping the countertop until I was crying out, my body clenching around nothing.
Shit, I missed him.
He finally released me, carefully peeling my panties down my thighs and then lifting them to his nose, inhaling our scents.
His chest rumbled. “Shower, Mo. We need to talk before we keep going.”
Damn.
