“Confession. I thought about this the day I met you.”
She swallows, her expression full of dirty wonder. “You did?”
“You didn’t?” I ask, laughing.
She laughs too. And I love this about us. I love that we get each other. I love that our laughter gels and that we can be like this, firing innuendos, teasing each other, wanting each other.
“Then do it,” she whispers.
“Gladly, neighbor,” I say, like the word tastes delicious on my tongue.
I bring my face down to hers, wanting to kiss her, but wanting to draw it out too, to make her shiver, to make her shudder.
I brush my lips along the column of her neck. “Actually, from the second I met you, I wanted to kiss you.”
She shudders against me. “I felt it too. Wanted it too.”
I brush my lips against her ear, nipping her delicious earlobe. She tastes fantastic, and she smells even better, all clean and pretty, like some kind of flowery lotion that absolutely drives me crazy. It’s a sweet, feminine scent that spells woman.
A woman who knows her mind. Who knows her wants.
The scent wraps around me. It intoxicates me. I lick her ear, my tongue coasting across the shell of it. “Thought about you all day.”
“Including while you were snipping dogs?”
I chuckle. “Let us not discuss snipping while my dick is hard.”
On that note, she pushes her pelvis against the outline of my erection, and I groan. Savagely.
My head goes hazy as the need to touch her everywhere intensifies, thrumming through my veins.
My lips travel across her jaw, sucking and kissing as I go, and when I think I can’t take it anymore—the tease, the buildup—she’s gasping and murmuring. Her sounds send adrenaline coursing through my body. My skin grows hotter, and every cell in my body craves the woman in my arms.
I am so damn lucky to have her here in my house, wanting all the same things I do.
And I want her to know with how I touch her, how I taste her, how I plan to bring her oceans of pleasure that she deserves it all.
She deserves everything.
I capture her lips with mine, and we kiss like everything makes sense in the world.
Like this kiss is the answer to all the questions.
Like everything we’ve ever needed to know can be found in the way our lips fuse together.
We explore each other’s lips. The feel and the taste of her floods my senses, fills my mind, spreads across my entire body. As the kiss deepens, the need to touch her more—here, there, everywhere—escalates. I slide my hands up her arms, cupping her cheeks. Holding her beautiful face in my hands.
Everything feels right about this moment.
We are the picture of wanting, needing, and having.
My tongue slides into her waiting mouth, and we moan as we connect. We murmur as we explore. My hands slide into her lush hair, and hers climb up my chest, rubbing against my pecs in a way that shows she likes what she feels. So much so it seems like she melts into the kiss. And soon, this becomes a long, slow moment, and we’re both gasping for air as our hands and bodies seek each other.
We press and touch and grind. Heat radiates between us as we go for another round of kissing, deep and fevered this time, teeth and tongues and fingers in hair, then grappling against clothes.
I feel wild. And I want to share all that wildness with her. To let her go wild too, since I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how she’ll be in bed.
I break the kiss.
“That’s only the beginning of how much I appreciate you,” I say, all rough and gravelly because I can’t speak any other way right now, since she’s fried all my brain cells. She’s frazzled everything inside me, and I want her so much.
Her eyes are wicked, rimmed with lust. “But then, how else do you appreciate me?”
This woman. I’m going to show her. I turn her around, admiring the view of her back, the curve of her ass, the shape of those strong legs. “Hands against the door.”
She lets out a sexy purr, sliding her palms up the wood.
“Let me show you,” I say, moving her hands up higher so those inked arms stretch above her body, her sparrows soaring to the ceiling.
She glances back at me. “So this is how we’re doing it?”
“Yes, this is how we’re going to do it. Because I have a thing for your neck.”
I move her hair to the side, and I kiss the back of her neck, sliding my lips across her delicious skin. The moan she unleashes is like the gorgeous chorus to a song, and I want to hear it again and again, so I kiss her more and more.
No. It’s worship.
She moves like water, almost swaying, bending, curving against me as my lips travel along her flesh to her shoulder, then to her collarbone and back up. This time I don’t simply kiss her. I nibble.
