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“Your plate,” she corrects, a hint of laughter in her voice.
God knows I should act like a decent person. I should keep my distance and straighten my own fucking life out before complicating everything, but the scent of her skin swarms around me. The warmth of her hand in mine somehow makes my heart pound a little harder, all while calming me as well. The paradox of it makes me want to explore it further.
Releasing her, I hand her my empty plate, but I don’t let her get far.
I reach up, trapping her by placing both of my hands on her hips. Her throat works on a swallow, but she doesn’t pull away from me.
She drops her eyes to mine, but I can’t see permission in them either.
“This may not be a good idea,” she whispers, her voice carrying a hoarseness to it that’s like a live wire to my arousal.
I shouldn’t be turned on just by the idea of her, but I get the distinct impression that trying to control the unexplainable connection I feel I have with her would be futile.
“How often do you make the wrong choices?” I ask, sweeping my thumbs back and forth until they’re brushing just under the hem of her shirt.
I swallow against the need to take things further, to speed things up in order to get to the good part.
“Never,” she answers, but instead of pulling away and explaining all the reasons why what could happen between us is the worst idea ever, and a choice she refuses to make, she leans a little to the side and drops the plates on the side table.
The brush of her fingers through my hair makes my eyes flutter. The touch isn’t inherently sexual, but the attention sinks low in my belly.
I’ve never understood people in movies or books when they mention birds or butterflies taking flight in their stomachs, so experiencing it for the very first time is eye-opening when she places her hand on my head. With my overly long, in-need-of-a-haircut head, it’s not even skin-on-skin contact, but it rocks me to my core.
“Sunshine,” I whisper, my tone probably too low for her to even hear, as I pull her closer.
My thumb lifts the hem of her shirt, revealing the soft skin of her lower belly.
It quivers, jumping away from my mouth when I press soft kisses there. A hiss of breath rushes past her lips when I lick the delicate skin, and I’m no longer threatened with an erection. I’m fully suffering with one now.
My grip tightens on her hips, my mouth licking and nipping at the skin on her lower belly. She doesn’t release my head when I reach for the button on her jeans, but I still angle my head up, looking at her for approval.
I could devour this woman, spend every second of the day exploring her body with my mouth and hands. So help me God, if she doesn’t stop me, then that’s exactly how we’ll spend our evening.
“If you want me to stop…” I manage. It’s a warning, and as much as I’d like to think I’d be able to stop at any point she’d want to, there’s this frenzied need inside of me, making me concerned that I wouldn’t.
Her fingers tighten in my hair, the minuscule tug to move my head closer to her body all the permission I need.
Her skin is warm against my tongue as I work her zipper down. The pale pink satin of her panties makes my cock leak in my sweats. Jesus, I know I’m going to embarrass myself the first time I sink inside of her, but I fully plan to get her off a few times before doing it as an apology.
My fingers are half an inch away from pulling her jeans down, and I know she’s going to let it happen when she spreads her legs a little further, but then the echo of a knock fills the room.
One second, I’m inches away from filling my mouth with the tangy sweetness of her arousal and the next, I’m watching her back as she scurries down the hallway.
I’m frustrated, sporting an erection harder than I can ever remember happening.
“Shit,” Sunshine says as she comes back down the hall.
“Just ignore it and come back over here,” I plead. “Whoever it is will go away.”
She shakes her head, swiping her hands over her cheeks as if that will wipe away the redness in them.
Instead of listening to me, she heads right for the front door, pulling it wide open after checking the peephole.
“Hi.”
It’s Rivet’s voice.
I grind my teeth, wondering if this isn’t the universe trying to tell me something, an attempt to make me believe it means something more than just really shitty timing on the part of my oldest friend.
“Angeline,” I say with more heat than intended when she steps into the living room.
