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I blink. “Oh. I thought that was why you kissed me—as punishment.”
She laughs. “No. I did it because you did it to me, remember?”
“Oh…”
“Why would I want to punish you?” she asks, puzzled.
“I guess because it’s impolite. It’s called snow-blowing.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Except usually it involves returning the whole mouthful, I believe. A way to punish a guy when he doesn’t warn that he’s going to come.”
“Well, I wouldn’t do that. You lost control. That’s super-hot.” She stretches out beside me and licks her lips. “It’s a bit salty,” she adds. “Mmm. Nice.”
I huff a sigh.
“I can tick Slot C off, anyway,” she comments. “I like making you lose control. You swear a lot. I’m learning lots of words.”
I give a short laugh. “What am I going to do with you?”
“You can spank me later. As I’m sure you’re interested in doing, Mr. I’m-convinced-I’m-not-kinky-even-though-I-definitely-am.” She yawns and snuggles up to me. “If I could have a man, I’d pick someone like you,” she whispers.
And it’s right then, at that moment, that I make the decision that I’m not going to let her go.
Chapter Nine
Alice
Kip gets me to turn away from him, then moves up close so his chest is to my back and wraps his arm around me. I sigh and close my eyes, assuming we’ll cuddle for a while and then he’ll announce he has to leave.
“Is this spooning?” I mumble as he pulls the duvet up to my shoulders.
“Sure is.”
I pull his hand up to my mouth and kiss it. The light scent of his cologne rises from his skin, along with the essence of luscious, warm male. Having lost my father, I find the smell oddly comforting as well as attractive. “You smell terrific.”
He kisses my hair. “So do you. Your hair smells of strawberries.”
Smiling, I close my eyes.
Two seconds later, I fall asleep.
*
I rouse in the middle of the night, and it takes a few seconds for me to remember where I am. The window is on the other side to where it is at home. And not only that, but there’s someone in bed with me.
I turn over, pleasure filling me as I realize he’s still here, and that he didn’t disappear in the night. He’s lying on his back, looking away from me, sprawled out, sound asleep. It’s dark now—he must have turned out the lights at some point—but the room is lit dimly by the moon outside, as the curtains are still open. The duvet rests over his chest, but his shoulders are free, and the moonlight highlights his muscles, and the scatter of hair below his throat.
He stayed. I curl up on my side and let my gaze wander over him as my eyelids droop again. I can see the short hair on the back of his head, his almost-shaved nape, and the curve of his ear.
I’m not foolish enough to assign any special meaning to what happened last night. People have one-night stands all the time, and I’m sure few of them think deeply about the act, viewing it as simple gratification. But despite all that, it was special for me. This man found me attractive enough to take me to bed, he took considerable time to give me pleasure—three times—and he was kind and gentle—well, until the end, anyway. As I remember how he lost control and thrust himself to a climax, I get goosebumps all over. I’ll be pressing the rewind button on that memory a lot in the future.
I’m so glad I did this. It’s only now that I realize how badly it could have gone. If I’d slept with Tim… let him kiss me and take off my clothes, let him slide inside me… I’d have been lying there, eyes squeezed shut, desperate for him to get it over with so I could leave. But Kip couldn’t be further toward the other end of the spectrum.
His chest rises and falls with his even breaths. He’s taking up more than his share of the bed, but I don’t care. I lie there and look at him until I can’t keep my eyes open any longer. And then I fall asleep, and dream of him for the rest of the night.
*
