Page 40 of The Roommate Problem
Chapter Twelve
Best bad idea ever.
Mo felt like she was sliding down a rainbow into a pool of warm chocolate fondue. Seriously, being held in August’s arms while he kissed her was the best feeling she could possibly imagine. She just knew this man held a keg of sexual dynamite underneath all that grump and fussiness.
And boy was she right.
Right about now, she wouldn’t even be able to spell her name if it was written on a paper in large bold letters three inches from her face, because August had killed every single brain cell she possessed and replaced everything in her mind with the driving need to get in his pants. Or towel, as it were. Thank goodness she’d been able to get him to see the logic of her arguments. No way could she have gone another few months in this man’s constant presence and kept her hands to herself. He was more tempting than all the pineapple pizza in the world.
His large hands moved up her rib cage, creating energy-charged goose bumps as they went. Thick fingers curled against the stretchy elastic of her top’s neckline, tugging the shirt down underneath her breasts. The cool air of the apartment washing over her tight nipples did nothing to quell the fire burning inside her. She needed him. She needed August.
“Fuck,” he swore, pulling away from her mouth to stare down at her. “How can they be even more perfect than I remember?”
“I don’t know,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s only been a few hours since you saw them. I promise they didn’t change in that time.”
“Perfect,” he muttered, cupping his hands around her breasts gently.
She moaned, the sensation of his rough hands against her sensitive skin almost overpowering. The sensory overload hit her hard. She enjoyed a good fondle during foreplay, but she’d never had someone pay such loving attention to her breasts. August touched, caressed them like they were the most precious gift he’d ever been given.
Smart man. Her boobs were a pretty great gift, if she said so herself.
August bent his head, mouth opening. When his lips closed over her right nipple, she cried out, hands fisting in those gorgeous red locks of his. She pressed his head against her, reveling in the way this man could play her body like a fiddle. She might just die of pleasure before all this was over, but what a wonderful way to go.
But before this party got started, Mo knew there was one more thing they had to discuss.
“Con—ooooo!” She moaned when August bit down slightly, the sharp sting sending a zing of pleasure straight down between her legs to all her good parts. “August, wait a second.”
His head popped up, and she lamented the loss of his wickedly talented mouth on her breast, but this was important.
“What?” His heated gaze dimmed, concern filling his eyes. “Change your mind?”
His hands started to slide away, but she tightened her grip on his head, pulling him back to her until they were nose and nose. “Not a chance in hell, but before we go to bone town, there’s something we need.”
His nose wrinkled as a short burst of laughter left him. “Bone town? Now who’s killing the mood?”
What? What was wrong with bone town? It was accurate, funny. She had a theory that people would enjoy sex a lot more if they embraced the hilarity of it. The movies tried to make it all sensual and dramatic, but there was fumbling with clothing, sweat, awkward positions, and sometimes the dreaded unintentional bodily sounds. Sex was funny. The more you laughed, the more you were doing it right. At least, that’s what she always thought.
“Well, if you’re no longer interested…”
She started to pull away with a sly smile, but August grunted, lifting her up so she could wrap her legs around his waist. He pressed her back against the wall, her body trapped between the cool plaster and his hot body.
“Does this feel like I’m not interested?” he asked, pressing himself against her.
The new position put all the good bits into contact, and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. The man was most definitely very, very interested.
His mouth went to her neck, taking little love bites as he ground himself against her.
“Now what do we need?”
What? Was he speaking? All she could hear was the rushing of blood in her ears as August drove her out of her mind. Every nerve in her body was poised on the edge of explosion and she didn’t even have her pants off yet.
Yup. She was definitely dying tonight.
La petite mort.
“Moira,” he whispered in her ear, nuzzling the sensitive spot under her lobe with the tip of his nose.
“Huh?”
