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“Come on.” I grab her hand, dropping the takeout and my messenger bag on the kitchen counter before I lead her down the hall to the laundry room. My logic: While our clothes dry, Rian and I can get to know each other better—with our hands and mouths.
Typically I enjoy working my way up to sex with a woman. I don’t get a thrill out of one-night stands. I like prolonged anticipation, drawing it out over several dates. A long kiss good night, a message that I enjoyed myself, a call to set up another date, maybe rounding second and third base after a nice romantic dinner, and then eventually, they’re the ones begging me to get naked. This isn’t ego talking, and it isn’t a game—it’s human reaction to delayed gratification and attraction. Rian is proving to be a challenge, because all I can think about is getting my mouth on hers again and my hands on her skin. Forget prolonging anticipation.
As soon as we pass through the door, she closes it without turning on a light.
Rian slips a hand under my shirt. “My God, there are so many ridges under here. Where’s the light?”
I slap the wall a couple of times until we’re both blinded.
Rian glances around and frowns. “This isn’t my bedroom.”
“You thought I was going to take you straight to your bedroom?”
Her cheeks flush. “Uh … I guess?”
“What did you think I meant when I said we should get you out of those wet clothes?”
“That you want to have sex with me.”
That is a definite want. Maybe even broaching need at this point. “I couldn’t just be worried about the way your teeth are chattering?” I pinch her chin between my thumb and finger to stop it from trembling. “And your lips are turning blue.”
“Possible. But considering you’re rocking a killer hard-on, I’m going to say this isn’t just about being chivalrous.”
I glance down at the front of my pants. She has a point. I’m definitely hard and it’s very obvious. “It’s partly about chivalry.”
“Right. So dry clothes. I’ll help you out of your wet ones, then.” She resumes her mission to pull my shirt over my head. She’s quite a bit shorter than I am, despite being a tall girl, so I drop to my knees on the mat in front of the washing machine so she can get it over my head.
“So helpful,” she murmurs.
“Just making it easier for you, being chivalrous, as it were.”
She drops my shirt on the floor, her lip caught between her teeth as she runs her fingers through my hair. When she reaches the nape of my neck, she drags her nails gently over my shoulders. “Even your muscles have muscles. It’s like the big ones are having sex with each other and making new little ones under there.”
I chuckle. “Should I take that as a compliment?”
“Definitely. Your body is a masterpiece.”
“So is yours, and I’m looking forward to getting my hands on every single inch of it if you’re interested.” I grab the shirt from the floor, lean to the right and flick the dryer door open so I can toss it inside.
I settle my palms on her hips. “You help me and I help you?”
“Sounds very equitable.”
I slip my hands under her shirt, fingertips dragging along her sides as the fabric rises over her stomach and I stand. Rian’s eyes are on mine as she lifts her arms for me, and I draw her shirt over her head.
Her bra is exactly what I’d expect from her, bright green with white polka dots. I trace the edge that dips into the valley. “I like this a lot.”
“My cleavage or the bra?”
“Both.”
She steps up and flicks the button on my pants. Then motions to her waist. “Your turn.”
I slip one finger into the waistband of her jeans, and I flick the button open. She whimpers, then I drop my hand. “Your turn.”
She lowers my zipper with the same slow deliberation. “Oh.” She bites her lip.
I’m wearing pale boxers. My pants are soaked. The fabric underneath is transparent and conforms to the contours of my erection. I reach between her hands, still gripping my pants, and pull her zipper down, then fold back one side of the fabric. Her panties are black satin.
“I wasn’t planning to show this stuff off tonight.” She motions to her bra and her panties.
“Would they match if that was part of your plan?”
She shrugs. “Maybe? I guess it depends on how much effort I feel like putting in.”
“Did they match when you went out with Terry?”
“No. And don’t bring him up again, especially not when I’m about to take your pants off.” Her tongue peeks out as she pushes my pants over my hips.
Rian dips a single finger into the waistband of my boxers. I grab her wrist before she can get in there and fold her arm behind her—gently, of course. I walk her backward until her butt hits the washing machine and I’m pressed against her. I plant a palm on either side of her and drop my head until my mouth is at her ear. “It’s not your turn.”
Like mine, her wet jeans stick to her panties, almost taking them along for the ride.
I’m not ready for her to be naked, yet. This slow foreplay is far too much fun. I adjust the panties so they’re no longer at risk of coming down with her jeans.
Inch by slow inch, I shimmy her jeans over her hips until they finally fall to the floor. My palm glides down the outside of her leg, and I sweep along the crease at the back of her knee, down her calf to her ankle, encouraging her to lift one foot, then the other so I can rid her of the denim.
While I’m crouched in front of her again, I grab my own jeans, retrieve my phone and wallet from the pocket, toss our pants into the dryer and shut the door.
Rian bites her lip. “Shouldn’t we dry everything?”
Rising again, I pause to kiss her stomach, just below her naval. “If I take off your panties and you take off my boxers, I’m going to have an awfully hard time not getting inside you.”
“And here I thought that was the point of getting naked.”
Grabbing her by the waist, I move over and set her on top of the dryer. Rian parts her legs, making room for me. I reach around to pick a setting and the dryer rumbles to life under her. Twisting her long hair around my hand, I kiss a path up her neck.
I pause at the corner of her mouth. “Rian?”
“Mmm?” Her fingertips glide over my chest, nails circling my nipples.
I lean back, taking in her parted lips, and hooded, glazed eyes. “What do you want to do while we wait for our clothes to dry?”
“Uhhh…” Her brow furrows.
“There are board games in the living room.” I’m playing with her, although I’d like to give her an out if she feels like she needs one.
“You think I want to hang out in my underwear and play board games with you?”
“It could be fun.”
“No, thanks.” She claps a palm against the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to hers, biting my lip.
“What do you have against board games?”
“Nothing.” She tries to slip her tongue inside my mouth, but I have her hair wrapped around my hand, which means I can prevent her from going after my mouth.
“What do you want right now?”
She makes a noise in the back of her throat. The kind I associate with annoyance. “Your lips on mine. Your tongue in my mouth. Your hands on my body. The big old hard-on you’re sporting rubbing up against me.”
