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“Don’t. It’s hot.” She reaches down and bites one of my nipples lightly.
“Hot as in sexy?” I hiss into her ear, picking her up and covering her body with mine. “Or hot as in heat.”
“Both.”
“I like both.” She touches the ear she bit the other day, eyebrows knitting with regret.
“I want everything, Drew. Everything. Make me feel. You already make me want you.” A gentle kiss on my ear punctuates her words.
“I do?”
“God, yes, you do.”
“Lindsay, I don’t want you.”
She tenses.
“I crave you. I need you. You’re like a drug and I’m an addict. You’re an obsession that won’t stop looping through my mind. I wish all I felt was want. This would be so much easier. Every second I’m not touching you is like being tortured.”
“Then stop torturing yourself.” She shimmies out of her nightgown.
She is completely naked underneath. Not even panties.
“Oh.” I swallow, throat suddenly dry. My running shorts tent. She looks down at my erection.
“Take those off.”
“Are you sure?”
“Are you going to ask me that every step of the way?”
“What do you want, Lindsay?” I comply with her request. It’s the least I can do.
We’re naked before each other. But are we truly stripped bare?
Her shoulders rise and fall faster, breasts pert and perfect, her breath quickening as she takes me in and says, “I want you to shut up and make love to me, Drew. I want to claim what’s ours. I want what we lost four years ago.”
“I’m not sure I can give all that to you.” I step forward and touch her arms, pulling her close, hip to hip.
“Then let’s at least try,” she rasps in my ear.
“That I can do, with tremendous pleasure.”
Or die trying.
Chapter 9
This time, the kiss holds expectation tinged with belief, the very real feeling that this is about to unfold. We’re naked, pressed together in a tangle of skin and limbs, hair and fingers, tongues finding secrets between us and making them come alive, exposing them to the air where they evaporate.
She tastes like salty sweet hope, like an unleashed temptress who finally gets to test the world, who can push and see how powerful she really is. I am not about to be an obstacle as Lindsay finally, exquisitely, reaches for what she wants.
Wholeness.
We can find it together, I know, as her hair tickles my jaw, our abs brushing together, her belly going tight as I cup one breast and revel in the fullness. It’s light and heavy, a globe of agile heat, and my fingertip skims the nipple, making her moan.
My cock pushes against her thigh, her legs shifting as I cradle her jaw with my other hand and kiss her until I can’t tell the difference between her breath and mine.
“You taste perfect. You taste like everything, Lindsay. I’ve wanted to kiss you a million times a day, every day, for four years. How do you do it?” Before she can answer, I kiss her again, a slow, languid kiss that takes its time, as if it’s separate from us, an entity that has its own agenda.
