Page 49 of How to Get Lucky
“What do you know? I like all the things too. It’s all pretty damn good.” Her tone goes wistful again. There’s a note of sadness that makes me feel like a jackass. What the hell am I doing? I know this can’t go anywhere. Not anywhere I want it to.
But I’m doing it anyway.
I sidestep the us and focus on something that I can say with absolute certainty. “By the way, I think your dance is going to be incredible. You’re going to nail that portfolio, and you’re going to do great things at the club.”
“Thanks. I’m pretty happy with it. I think we created a cool thing together. I’m going to put the finishing touches on it tomorrow. Also, you’re a pretty good deejay. I’m sure your new business will boom.”
“I’m nowhere near ready yet to go out on my own. But someday.”
I tell myself the same could apply to her and me. Maybe someday.
Maybe someday when things change at the job.
Maybe someday when I sort out what I’m doing.
Maybe someday when I get a better handle on things and figure out my life. Maybe then I’ll be able to have that maybe-someday with her.
But for now, I’m going to relish tonight for all that it is.
As we return to my building and head upstairs, I adopt a TV informercial voice. “Have you ever considered how amazing the hedgie toy is?”
“As in the greatest dog toy ever invented?”
“It is indeed the best toy in the history of dog toys. Whoever invented it deserves an award.”
“All the awards,” she says as I open the door to my condo, and we unsnap our dogs’ leashes.
I toss a hedgie to Bowie and another to Mr. Darcy. They take them to opposite ends of the living room. As they focus on the utter amazingness of their toys, I take London to my bedroom, she removes her glasses, and we undress each other.
None of this feels like we’re messing around. None of it feels like we’re hooking up. None of this feels like it’s going to end soon.
All of it feels like we’re just starting.
27
Here we are.
In my bedroom.
Stripped bare.
Ready.
Her eyes glimmer with desire as we lunge at each other. I tug her onto the bed, on top of me. Our bodies crash together, and the feel of skin on skin makes my head hazy.
She moans, low and throaty. I thread my hands in her hair, bringing her mouth to mine.
We kiss, needy and hungry—the kind of kiss that’s both desperate and a prelude. A kiss that won’t last long, because we both need more.
More than kissing. More than mouths.
We need connection.
Hell, I crave it.
We kiss recklessly, unchained. Our mouths saying words that extend beyond maybe someday.
I grab a handful of her hair, pulling her head back roughly, and slam my lips to hers. I’m kissing her everywhere, devouring her, consuming her. Her lips, her cheeks, her chin, neck, and ear.
She tastes like heaven as her tongue tangos with mine. My hands glide down her smooth back, clasping her ass—her gorgeous, fantastic ass that I want to spank, bite, kiss. I squeeze her flesh, letting her know with my touch how much I want her.
With a soft but sexy laugh, she pulls away from my mouth. “You trying to tell me you like my ass?”
I give her a salacious grin. “Love. I love your ass. It’s spectacular.”
She slides her hand around to mine, kneading it too. “Back at you,” she says, then returns to my lips.
The press of her body against mine is incredible, but I want her under me. I flip her onto her back, then admire the view. Her lithe, lovely body. Her soft stomach. Her perky tits.
Right here for me to adore.
I bury my face between her breasts, sucking and licking feverishly while she cries out.
“Yes. Mmm. Love that.”
I love her mouth, her words, the way she talks back.
It’s fucking fantastic to be with a woman who tells you what she likes. Who’s unafraid to voice her desires, to ask for what she wants.
Her body’s damn good at communicating too. She’s rocking her hips, arching her back, making it clear she wants more.
After I worship at the altar of her breasts, I pull back, rise up, and take her in.
This is all I want. To be naked with London. To be here with her.
She runs her fingers along my chest, then trails them down my arms with wild arousal in her eyes. Her fingernails dig gently into my flesh, sending shivers of pure bliss coursing through my body.
When she reaches the tattoo on my left arm, her breath hitches and her eyes glaze.
“I finally get to see the tattoo,” she purrs playfully.
“I knew you could convince me.”
“What does it mean to you? Why did you have it done?”
“It’s a Celtic trinity knot. Body, mind, spirit,” I say, guiding her hand over each point. “A reminder to stay in balance. Though the ‘body’ part is kinda dominating right now.”
