AllFreeNovel
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Skye smells sweet, but I can’t place it. I think it’s her perfume. Whatever it is, standing so close to her is making me restless and hungry. Greedy for every little bit of her I can get, I reach for her and settle my hands on her hips.
“I have zero regrets,” I promise her. “I just…wondered if you did. If I should have asked before I kissed you.”
She frowns.
“Some women don’t like—”
“Some women do,” she answers. “I suppose there are times when it’s better to ask permission. But I wanted you to kiss me.”
“And now?” My voice is gruff with want, need, for her. She lifts her chin and meets my eyes again. “Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
I want to devour her, but I want to taste her. To feel every moment, every press of our lips together, every stroke of my tongue over hers. So I move slowly, with purpose. My hands are still on her hips. Willingly, she comes even closer when I tug her gently toward me. Skye roams her fingertips over my face again and reminds me of the first day I showed up here. When she touched my face. Kind of seems like years ago, but it feels like yesterday, too.
It feels like we’ve known each other longer than the ten days we’ve been sharing the same space. True, we knew of each other because of Chloe, but standing here with her, watching her read my face with her hands, feels intimate in a way sex never has.
She parts her lips again when I lean in close, and I flick the tip of her tongue with mine. She tastes like wine and chocolate, and I fight my brain from thinking about painting her with chocolate and licking it from her skin, head to toe. Another stroke of my tongue, and she opens her lips wider, meets me halfway and kisses me back.
“Skye.”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Still, we stand here, locked in this kiss. Her arms are around my shoulders, her fists locked behind my neck. My hands have moved from her hips to her ass, sweet and supple. When I cup her ass cheeks, Skye lifts up on her toes, so I lift her. She winds her legs around me, her thighs deliciously firm around my waist.
Her heat is pressed to my gut as I carry her into my bedroom. I’m a neat freak, so my bed is made. My things are all in here, but everything is meticulously organized.
“What’re you doing?” she whispers when I set her on the edge of the bed and step away.
Rather than answer her, I pull my wallet from my pocket and take out the only condom I currently own. Our eyes meet as I toss my wallet aside and it falls to the floor. Skye drags her teeth over her lower lip and watches me move around my room. I turn on my Bluetooth speaker and select a sexy, bluesy playlist.
“Setting the scene?” she asks with a grin when I turn back to her.
“I like sex and music,” I answer simply.
She swallows hard when I grab the collar of my t-shirt and tug it off over my head.
“You’re beautiful.” She climbs to her feet and reaches for me, fingers tracing the ink over my shoulder and down my chest and arm. “What is it?” She flattens her hand on my chest and looks me in the eyes. “It’s music, I know that. But what?”
I designed the tattoo after I wrote my first instrumental piece. The design is intricate; a combination of a treble clef, the time signature, and the first few measures of the piece.
“It’s part of a song I wrote.”
Skye looks surprised and then impressed. She flicks her eyes low over my lips and then studies the ink again. Her soft, warm hand molds the wall of my chest, up and over my shoulder, and then she wraps her fingers around my upper arm. The name of the composition—Never Bliss—is inked on my inner arm.
The soft brush of her hair on my skin shoots a current of want through me. I don’t know how we switched roles here; I wanted to undress her and play and touch every inch of her skin. And instead, she’s touching me, and it feels so damned good, I’m helpless to move. I close my eyes and revel in the slide of her hands down my back and the press of her open mouth to my chest. Wet heat on my skin. Her teeth graze my nipple.
We move together like a dance. Her hands tug at the waistband of my shorts. I fist mine in her hair and pull her head back to kiss her. I find the tail of her t-shirt and ease it up slowly, mesmerized by the slow unveiling of her flat belly. Her shirt hits the floor as I slip my hands into the waistband of her yoga pants.
I catch her hands when she tugs again at my shorts. In a pale pink bra with cups made of lace and a sweet little bow between her breasts and a skimpy pair of pink panties, she stares at me expectantly. Her cheeks are flushed with desire, her wet lips parted, ready for more.
“You first,” I tell her.
“You want me naked first?” she asks with a wicked grin.
