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She chugs the rest of her wine and sets her glass on the counter. Eyes on hers, I down the rest of my glass and set it next to hers. In the next breath, her hand wraps around mine. Her grip is as tender and firm as her personality. Goose bumps trail up my arm as a shiver rolls down my spine.
Before I get the chance to read into my reaction to her touch, she is on the move. Hauling me out of the kitchen and through the main living area. Down a short hall and into a bedroom. Her bedroom.
Stepping past the threshold, she drops my hand, walks to the side of the bed, and turns on a Himalayan salt lamp. Soft-pink light filters through the room, stealing some of the security the darkness provides. Alessandra remains rooted beside the nightstand, her back to me, while I linger near the door.
God, how I want to demolish the distance between us.
Three strides. In three strides, I’d wrap my arms around her middle. Press my lips to the soft skin where her neck and shoulder meet. Kiss a trail up the side of her neck. Nip at her ear as my hands roam down her belly and slowly peel her top off.
Step.
Removing the elastic from her hair, blonde strands sweep down her spine. She tosses the hair band on the nightstand.
Step.
Her hands drop to the bottom hem of her top and fist the fabric.
“Don’t,” I whisper and she grants me a glimpse of her profile.
Step.
My hands rest over hers as I press my front to her back. Audible breaths float through the room as her chest rises and falls faster. A shiver rolls through her as my fingertips lightly trail up her arms. Sweeping her hair aside, I dip down, run the tip of my nose across her shoulder, and inhale deeply. My eyes roll back as I reach the curve of her neck, my lips parting and tongue darting out to taste her.
One touch, one taste, one hit and she melts.
My hand trails over her collarbone to the front of her throat. Fingers splayed, I tighten my hold and tilt her head to the side. A moan reverberates in the room as I palm a breast and sink my teeth into her shoulder. She covers my hands with hers. Adds more pressure. Squeezes. Claws.
Ripping my hands away, she spins around, removes my glasses and sets them on the nightstand. Then her hands are in my hair, fingers fisting the strands, yanking me down and crashing her lips to mine. My arms snake around her middle and haul her impossibly closer. I walk her backward until she bumps into the bed.
My hands slide down either side of her waist to the bottom of her shirt. Mouth devouring hers, I fist the cotton of her shirt and slowly drag it up her body. The kiss breaks long enough to yank the shirt over her head and toss it aside. Followed by her bra. With deft fingers, I pop the button on her jeans and pull the zipper down the teeth.
Her hand dips beneath my shirt, fingertips ghosting over the skin at the waistband of my jeans. I suck in a breath, rest my hands on her hips, and curl my fingers. Hard.
“Fuck, firecracker,” I breathe out. She has barely touched me and already I need to detonate.
Nails drag up my chest, pushing my shirt up and over my head. It hits the floor in a whoosh. We crash back together—lips and tongues tangling, fingers and hands fumbling. My jeans hit the floor with a thud, followed by hers.
Six months ago, I spent hours memorizing the softness of her skin. The flare of her hips. The curve of her breasts. And the way she fit perfectly against the length of my body. Everything about that night was perfection. Our chemistry was fire and vital and undeniable.
We will never be anything except passion. At least, that is what I keep telling myself.
A hand on her hip, I press a knee on the mattress and guide her down onto the bed. She scoots back and lies down, her hands framing my face. Her legs band around my waist, heels digging into my glutes and forcing me forward. My fingers bruise her hip as I rock my weight and length against her center.
She tips her head back and gasps. “Oh god.”
I lace my fingers with hers and drag her hands up the bed. I kiss along her jaw, down her neck. Lick the length of her collarbone before drifting down and kissing the swell of her breast. Her grip on my fingers tightens. Her chest heaves as her heavy breaths float in the air.
Savoring every inch of her skin, I take my time. But when my mouth wraps around her nipple and I suckle the pert bud, her back bows off the bed. When I add a little teeth and lightly tug, her hold on me turns painful. Soft whimpers mingle with her heavy breaths as I rock my hips and grind my hard length against her middle.
I pay equal attention to her other breast then kiss my way down between her breasts and over her belly. I release her hands as I drag my lips and tongue over her navel. When I reach the band of her panties, I nip and kiss my way to one hip, then move to the other.
Her fingers dive into my locks and tug up until our eyes connect.
“Please, Braydon,” she whisper-begs.
I press a kiss to the skin just above her panties. “Please what, firecracker?”
“Stop teasing already.”
