Page 38 of How to Get Lucky
And yet as I slide my hands up her back, the last thoughts of Archer and my career slink off into the night like the final note of a song fading to silence.
I run my thumb across her cheek in a gentle caress.
She gasps, and with that sexy sound, I give all the way in. I’m not immune to weddings, to slow songs, to flickering strands of lights and warm breezes.
“Maybe you are a good luck charm,” I say. “I should call you Lucky.”
A grin tugs at her lips. “Did I just get a nickname?”
“Seems you did.”
“Better seal it with a kiss.”
And because that is the next step of this dance routine, we kiss.
As my lips slide across hers, the moment becomes stronger than me, stronger than my desire to play by the rules and go by the book. Her body melts into mine, and her lips part for me, inviting me in to kiss deeper, harder.
And for longer.
But longer would be better someplace else.
Once our lips separate and we lock eyes, I make a choice.
A dangerous one, but a choice nonetheless.
“About that hypothesis you mentioned last night,” I say.
“What about it?” Her question comes out breathy.
“I believe I’d like to take the good-guy challenge.”
“Let’s take it. Let’s take it now.”
Looks like we’re both ripping up the rogue-kissing pact. Fine by me. The good-guy challenge sounds a helluva lot more satisfying.
* * *
London helps with the lights and music breakdown, powered by that same fevered need that’s driving me, turned on beyond all reason.
We load all the gear into my car then cruise to my condo, the traffic gods and goddesses gifting us green light after green light.
“I only have thirty minutes,” she says in a rush as we get out. “Nate is out for a while, and Mr. Darcy turns into a barking pumpkin at midnight.”
“Can he tell time?”
“Yes. Breakfast time, dinnertime, and barking time, which he indulges in if he’s alone. Something I learned once when the neighbors complained when we were all out too late.”
“Then we better be fast,” I say as we bound up the steps.
With supersonic speed, we take Bowie and Vin Scully around the block—I’ll answer to Sherri’s arched eyebrows tomorrow—then return to my place.
I lock the door, grateful that London still has that hungry look in her eyes.
Pretty sure that look hasn’t left mine either.
The energy and fire from the dance floor flicker across her irises. Though it’s more of a smolder now.
But that’s okay. That gives me the chance to prove good guys have got it going on.
I go for it. Not only for me, but hell—I have the honor of a lot of dudes to defend here.
I finger the hem of her skirt. “So, this window before midnight. I bet we have just enough time to run an experiment.”
She taps her chin, playing along. “Gee. What kind of experiment?”
My fingers thread through her hair. “I’d love to prove to you that good guys have what it takes to be great in the bedroom.”
She laughs lightly, but her gaze is heated. “What if I don’t want to run this test in the bedroom?”
“Living room. Kitchen. Bedroom. A proper experiment requires a variety of controls and variables.”
“And testing locations, it seems.” She swallows, lifting her chin. “So, what do you have in mind for the next thirty minutes? Or twenty-five, I should say.”
I brush featherlight kisses along her neck, making her shiver as I work my way up to her ear. “Preliminary tests.”
“Ohhh,” she says, a little shuddery, suggesting she likes where we’re going. “But we can do subsequent tests too?” she asks with a hint of sadness in her voice, and I mentally grin at her disappointment that we’re not sleeping together tonight.
“We can do all the tests,” I say, and I slam my lips to hers, savoring her taste.
We kiss hot and deep for several delicious seconds as I guide her back to the couch, sinking into it, pulling her on top of me. In a practiced move, she takes off her glasses and sets them on the table.
My hands roam over her flat stomach, her back bowing as I touch her. Following her cues, I glide my hands beneath her dress, and in one swift motion, I tug it off, tossing it onto the floor.
There is only one thing to do now—enjoy the view.
I savor every inch of her.
The curves of her tits in her lacy blue bra, the freckles splashed across the valley between them, the soft skin of her stomach. And her legs straddling mine, giving me a fantastic view of matching panties that drive me wild. I press my hard-on against her center, and desire spins wildly through me, racing faster as she grinds down on me.
Our mouths connect again, tongues tangling together. We kiss harder, grinding together in a frenzy, a mad rush to get closer, to touch.
