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“Stop thinking,” he says.
I laugh, closing my eyes and whispering, “But I have so much to think about.”
His breath huffs out over me, and I know he’s smiling.
When I open my eyes again, he’s looking at my hand resting on his forearm and he shifts down to my side, picking my hand up and trailing his index finger over my knuckles, back and forward, back and forward like waves on a shore. A smile plays over his lips, and my whole attention becomes focused on my hand until my head is buzzing with it. How does he know that this will stop my head trawling through every little worry?
He bends down and murmurs into the skin on my neck. “If it’s any consolation, I can’t shut my head off either.”
I turn my head toward him, shifting back so I can see his face. “Is that why you do parkour and try out different drugs? Does it take you out of your head?”
How bizarre that we both have too much head noise and our strategies for dealing with it are so different. He inclines his head as his tongue sweeps out to wet his lips.
“I suspect that taking myself out of my head is very different for you than it is for me. I do it partly for that, but mostly I do these things because they make me feel alive.”
“Alive?”
“Sort of thrilled, high on adrenaline, I guess.” He shrugs. “I don’t understand it myself. I get bored easily.”
“I hope this isn’t boring.”
Maybe Fabian has done crazy stuff in bed with women who were up for it and as into experimenting as him, not uptight like me: Ms. Missionary Position. Cold drifts through my veins like smoke.
But he blows that all away when he laughs. “You couldn’t be boring if you tried, Kate. I’ll never get to the bottom of what your mind is jumping through in a million years.”
This man.That was kind of perfect. To say my value is not what we’re about to do, but in me, in who I am and what I think. He strokes my hand lighting my nerves on fire.
“I’m not sure I even want to have sex with you,” he mumbles, and my stomach drops out. He glances at me, away from where he’s threaded his fingers through mine, and a broad smile creeps over his face.
“No, no, no. I didn’t mean it like that.” He leans forward again, his voice slightly muffled as he kisses my skin. “You’re so fucking sexy, Kate.” He presses into me, erection hard against my hip, and an answering ache starts in my pelvis. Propping himself on one arm, he strokes the hair off my face.
“What I was trying to say is that I’m so turned on with just talking to you that I want to keep doing that. I don’t want the physical act of sex to spoil how turned on I get when you flirt with me, when I can see your body moving through your clothes but I’m not allowed to touch.”
His eyes shift downward, lighting sparks everywhere.
“I’ll have you know I don’t flirt, Mr. Adramovich.”
He shakes his head at me. “You’re the biggest flirt there is for a guy who’s looking for an interesting woman.”
God, that’s so untrue. And I’ve no answer, so I lift our entwined hands and kiss his knuckles. His face tightens around the jaw, and I trail my tongue down his index finger, playing with the tip, testing my teeth on the pad as his expression darkens.
“So sexy, Kate. This is going to be very, very, slow.”
“All night?” I grin.
He doesn’t smile back. “And as much as I have of tomorrow.” He says this with a half growl, like a veiled threat. “I like to take my time.” His hand comes up to cradle my jaw. “I’ve been thinking about this ever since I met you. I want to get lost in this.”
Ever since he met me?He had a hand up and something about my invite, this weekend, has made him drop it.
But what he’s said is a statement and an enquiry at the same time: He’s asking whether I’m down for slow. I close my eyes and bring my hands to his waist, skin tight under my fingers, pent-up sexual drive seething under the surface, and my breath stalls. I nod and he groans, nuzzling into me.
“I want to put it off over and over again.”
It comes out like a confession, like he’s ashamed, and I’ve no idea why, so I curl into him pressing my chest against his: This gets me a sharp inhale and a frown as he pulls back.
“We agreed slow,” he says, and the grin that has crept over my face wobbles.
“What if I get carried away because you’re just too mouthwatering?”
