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Twenty-Two
In romance novels, they talk about the hesitation before taking the full plunge that first time around. The one surprised by the kiss always hesitates, always tries to stop the protagonist from going too far and hitting the Point of No Return.
Andrew did not hesitate.
The moment I pressed my lips against his, he pressed back, the contact making my body come alive. His tongue demanded entry almost immediately, finding mine, insistent, naughty and sweet, wanting.
His hands glided over my body, reverent. “I dreamed about this,” he said. His nose nudged my collarbone. “About you.”
“Yeah?” I closed my eyes as I held my breath, waiting for his lips to find mine again. “Why’s that?”
He murmured a chuckle, sending his breath across my earlobe and tickling the side of my neck. “You still don’t see it, do you?”
I frowned, opening my eyes to meet his dancing ones. “See what?”
His hands made their way up my sides until finally coming to cup my face. “How irresistible you are.”
I closed my eyes again, tilting my head up to receive his kiss. He delivered it gently, lingering at the corners of my mouth like a lover sailing out to sea.
He pulled away, studying my face as if looking for an answer. I squirmed under his gaze, not wanting to see the weight of what we were doing—what we might end up doing—on his face, as well. As if sensing this, he drew my face to his again, taking over my body and my thoughts entirely. Every brush of his hands down my body erased the litany of awkward touches and almost-painful squeezes endured from Michael. Andrew made a choir come alive in my head—the sweetest of melodies. And no matter how urgent his hands, or how firmly he pressed me into the bed, or how tightly he fisted my hair, or how he grabbed my ass, he held me like I was a queen.
His hands traveled from my face, down my neck, over my shoulders and arms, linking his hands with mine, never breaking the contact between our lips. Our kiss shifted from gentle to urgent as he brought our arms above my head, pinning me to the bed, his body running the length of my own, his legs tangling with mine. He groaned when our bodies made contact, the sound sending pleasant shivers down my spine. I breathed heavily through my nose, embarrassed at how worked up I sounded but not caring enough to stop. Realizing and getting the ingredient that was missing in my relationship with Michael was intoxicating and I couldn’t get enough.
I moved slightly away from Andrew, just enough to fit my hands between our bodies. Trailing my hands down his chest, I moved to unbuckle his belt. I fumbled with it, finally unclasping it and unbuttoning his pants. My breath hitched in my throat as I started to run through the repercussions of having sex with my former best friend, while being married to another. My stomach lurched.
After fumbling with the belt and button, I made quick work of Andrew’s zipper. He lifted his hips to help me remove his jeans, and I dropped them unceremoniously on the floor. Almost as if by magic, both of us were down to our underwear in what felt like seconds. I blushed deeply, looking down at my plain, cotton panties and unremarkable flesh-colored bra. I wasn’t expecting anyone to see my underwear tonight, so I hadn’t worn one of the three pairs of sexy lingerie I owned. My bra and panties didn’t even match.
But it didn’t seem to matter to Andrew. His hungry gaze swept over my body from toes to eyes, taking it all in. Though the heat of his gaze warmed me, it was the adoration and appreciation that permeated my skin. His feelings, and the transparency of them, filled me with liquid sunshine.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” I demanded uneasily. I was so unused to being appreciated for my looks that Andrew’s attention became downright unbearable. Where moments before, I felt warmed by it, I now became supremely uncomfortable. Even water, a life-giving substance, can drown you when in excess.
But Andrew refused to be rushed. In his deliberate, kind, unhurried way, he brushed his fingertips across my skin. “We’ve been at this precipice for years now,” he said. His eyes caught mine and I once again felt the heat of his longing. “Let me enjoy going beyond it.”
His words filled me with my own keen longing, but also, a deep understanding. From the moment he and I met on that wintery Monday evening in our senior year of high school, I knew there was something different about him. Something in me joined with something in him, fusing us together in a way that was unbreakable. This physical joining was as inevitable as the sunrise.
When his eyes finally got his fill of me, he brought his lips to my forehead. I closed my eyes against the tenderness of the gesture, and I breathed in his scent. His lips glided over my temple; his nose created a path along my jawline. He brought his lips to the space behind my ear and pressed a gentle kiss there. The gesture brought tears to my eyes and warmth between my legs.
I could feel our hearts speed up, mine racing after his. When Andrew finally noticed that my breasts were pressed up against him, he groaned softly. It was his turn to move back a little, this time, to cup my breasts in his hands. He considered them for a moment, rubbing gentle circles around my nipple over the thin fabric of my bra. I gave a surprised little yelp at how wonderful, how sensual it felt. My sex clenched at the gesture, wanting more, needing more. I pressed my breasts into his hands, the gesture making Andrew catch my eye. The fire that lay there burned a little brighter as he saw the desire in my eyes that matched his.
Things suddenly sped up, the urgency becoming an itch across my skin. I took his mouth into my own, running my tongue along the seam of his lips, demanding entry as he had done moments before. He readily permitted it, his tongue finding mine once again. As our tongues danced, he rolled me over so I was beneath him. He pressed himself against my center, letting me feel just what I did to him. His hardness against my softness sent me into a frenzy, had me gasping for air. He rolled his hips against mine again and again, the friction becoming almost unbearable. Finally, I rasped out, “Condom?”
“Condom,” he confirmed in a murmur. His breathing slowed as he reached into his jeans pocket and pulled out a small foil square. He looked at me with apprehension, a small frown creasing his brow. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t think—”
“That’s good,” I said, pressing a kiss to his lips, palming his erection, rubbing the tip. “That’s exactly right. Don’t think.”
He groaned low in his throat, the sound reverberating between us. His pressed himself into my hand. “Do it again.”
I grinned, enjoying the effect I had on him. Watching him come undone was about to be my favorite activity in life. Slowly, tantalizingly, I made a circle around the head once more. I watched Andrew’s expression, delighting in the fact that he bit his bottom lip, closed his eyes, cursed under his breath. His hips moved in time to my circles, almost as if they moved of their own accord.
Finally he stopped me with a curt, “No more.” When I looked up in surprise, he grumbled, “You will make me come before I even get the condom on. And I wanna be inside you when I do.” A shiver ran up the length of my spine at the timbre of his proclamation. I immediately stopped circling and he chuckled. “We have the same goal,” he said. “Good.”
“Enough talking,” I said. I linked my hands behind his head, bringing his lips to mind once more. “We’ve talked enough for the last seven years.”
“Noted,” he murmured.
I wrapped my fingers around the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulling the fabric down his legs as best as I could. He helped me once they got to his knees. He looked at me then, his eyes dancing with mischief, joy, and dominance. “Put the condom on me.”
I shivered at the velvety demand, reveling in it. He had always been a little bossy, but this was different. This was the full force of it with a sprinkling of possessiveness. I may have been married to another, but in this moment, Andrew made no qualms about making me his.
