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She made a tiny rocking motion with her hips, hissing out a breath when she felt me between her legs.
“I’m so damn glad you are,” I said, just as I slid my hand against her cheek. We paused there, a quick moment of study in the dark, and then I surged forward and took her mouth with mine.
Sweet.
Soft.
Dangerous.
And that was just her lips. When she opened immediately, a breathy sigh escaping her mouth into mine, I swallowed it with a deep groan and swept my tongue against hers.
Ivy’s hands slid into my hair and gripped the strands tight as I kissed her deeply, memorized the taste of her, the way her tongue felt when it twined with my own.
It didn’t feel like a first kiss.
Because nothing was tentative or experimental.
She kissed me like we’d done it for years, like we knew exactly what the other person wanted.
Wasn’t that the crazy thing about following your instincts?
There was no logical way for me to know that she’d like it when I curled my fingers around her neck again, using my thumb under the edge of her jaw to direct the kiss, but she did. It was clear in the slight tremble of her hands, the sweet moans that came from deep in her throat, the way she pressed so tight against my chest like she couldn’t get close enough.
Which was convenient because I couldn’t either.
With one arm wrapped around her waist, fingers digging into her dress, she set a maddening, slow rhythm with her hips.
She broke away on a gasp but didn’t pull back, so I buried my nose into the slope of her shoulder and breathed in greedily.
“You smell so fucking good,” I growled. “Please tell me this is okay.”
“Please,” she begged. “Oh, please don’t stop. God, I needed this.”
With a groan, I sucked at the skin under my mouth, where her neck sloped into her shoulder, and it made her writhe on top of me.
I’d never been a one-night stand guy. Never been a casual sex guy.
But my hands trembled from the effort it took not to shove at the skirt of her dress, tear at the zipper of my pants and see what she felt like wrapped tight around me, how well she took every inch of me.
She tugged at my face, and I slanted my mouth over hers again, our tongues dueling, something messy and slick and so much hotter than anything I thought could be managed on the floor of an elevator.
I slid my hand up her back, tangling the ends of her hair into my fingers, tightening my hold when she whimpered a broken sound of relief into my mouth.
The sharp tips of her fingernails pricked against my scalp, and I groaned.
She was so responsive.
The sex would be incredible.
I knew it. Knew it so fucking deep in my bones that I wanted to tip her back and see what it took to have her legs shaking around me.
Could I do it with just my hands?
My mouth?
Or would it take everything to get her there?
I sucked at her bottom lip, releasing it with a pop, and she tipped her head back with a decadent sigh.
