AllFreeNovel
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Maybe it’s the scent of sugar, or perhaps it’s the buildup that’s been happening for weeks, but having just that tiny taste of her at my brother’s house wasn’t enough. The need to have her mouth fused with mine is so overwhelming, the only thing I can do after her lips pop free is lean down and breathe her in.
“Are you going to kiss me, or are you just going to stand there?” she asks, flashing me with a bit of that fire in her that I like so much.
“Just making sure you’re on the same page, Goldie,” I mumble against her bee-stung lips.
“Oh, I am.”
And before she can say anything else, I silence her by sealing my mouth to hers.
I have never wanted a kiss as bad as I want this one, and I’m pissed with myself for waiting so long to get one.
I have no idea what it is about this woman that makes me this crazy, but if she’s offering, then I am definitely taking.
Slipping my hand into her hair, I squeeze just a little and tilt her head to where I want it. She willingly leans closer to me. Her hand lands on my waist, and I push her further against the counter. Her lips open against mine, and I sink into the most delicious taste I’ve ever experienced. From the lingering sweetness of the icing to a flavor that is uniquely her, I instantly know that just one kiss from this woman will never be enough, and I need to be closer.
Picking her up, I set her on the counter without even breaking us apart. She moans into my mouth as I step between her legs and pull her hips flush with mine. Our age dictates that moments like this aren’t new for either of us, and I have no problem pushing into her center so she knows exactly what she’s doing to me. The heat of her sinking in through my joggers drives me insane, and I kiss her harder.
I want her, and she wants me. There’s no hiding that at this moment. Our kiss is needy, and I wouldn’t call it desperate, but it screams I’ve been waiting for this, for you, and now I can’t get enough fast enough.
Her hands move from my shoulders to my hair, and she pulls aggressively as she fights for control. If she wants control, hell, I’ll gladly give it to her, just as long as she doesn’t stop rubbing her body against mine.
“Briggs,” she whispers.
“I know, babe,” I tell her as she twists my head in the other direction, and she sucks my bottom lip between hers and then bites down. My cock twitches violently, and I squeeze her ass even harder while holding her against me. I’m certain she feels it, and I want her to. I want her to know what she does to me.
Over and over, I ravish her mouth. I explore her teeth, the roof of her mouth, and every tiny speck of space in between. Eventually, she gasps for air, and I drag my lips over the line of her jaw to her neck, where I leave large open-mouthed kisses and suck just hard enough not to leave any marks. Not that I’m opposed to marking her up. I just won’t do it without her approval first.
Having had enough, she pulls on my hair and brings my face back to hers. My beard is coming in after the weekend, but it’s not long enough to be soft, and her skin is already red. If she’d let me, I’d bury my face between her legs and make her red there as well. Instead, I drink her in and kiss her as thoroughly as I can. I would kiss her for hours, no days, if I could, but that isn’t what happens. When the timer to the oven goes off, cold water may as well have been thrown over both of us.
She gasps and pulls back to look me in the eyes. I know mine are hooded, and my cheeks are flushed, but I want her to see how much she affects me.
“That was . . .” she mumbles, her lips swollen and her fingers still in my hair.
“It was,” I tell her, rubbing her against me one more time. As much as I don’t want to let her go, I know I need to. We can not muddy the waters any more than this and risk making things awkward before we head to see her parents this weekend. Rich people are like vipers. They have heightened senses and strike the minute they detect weakness. I never want to put Goldie in a situation like this.
Stepping back, she jumps off the counter to pull her cupcakes out of the oven. I adjust myself as best I can and pull my shirt down until she bends over again, and I spot the line from the edge of the counter indented in her skin.
Inwardly, I groan.
“There,” she says, switching off the timer and tossing the oven mitt. She turns to face me, and while there’s a strength to her that keeps her composed and confident, I’m learning her cues. She subconsciously rubs her hands across the apron to smooth it out. I’ve seen her do this before, and I wonder if she even realizes she does it.
Reaching up, I tuck that one loose piece of hair back behind her ear. “I really am sorry about the fish,” I tell her as my hand moves to the side of her neck, my thumb stroking along her jawline.
“No, you aren’t,” she says softly, looking up at me.
“Well, maybe not the fish, but definitely the side effect.”
Her hand reaches up, and she runs it down my chest. Now she’s smoothing out my shirt, but purposely. Does she crave to touch me like I crave to keep my hands on her?
“Yeah, and don’t think I didn’t pick up on your not-so-subtle hints. I’m from New York, so of course I know what a dead fish means.” She pops a brow as if to challenge me to say differently.
I chuckle. “That’s my girl.”
And she is. She’s become my girl, and I find I’m not frightened by this or too much concerned over our neighborly proximity. Things are changing. What that means, I don’t know. It’s unexpected but entirely welcome.
She rolls her eyes.
“Just wait until you see what’s coming for you. You won’t be saying that, then.” An evil, knowing grin takes over her face, and my eyes instantly drift to her lips.
