Page 45 of The No Try Zone
His hand comes to rest on my hip, warm and sure. Like it belongs there. “You’re right. We absolutely should not.”
I tip my chin up as his other hand moves to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, then cups my cheek.
I should stop him.
He should stophimself.
Colin does no such thing. Instead, he leans down, and my eyes flutter closed as our mouths meet. His beard is soft on my skin, his lips firm and warm against mine. His hand flexes on my hip, holding me tighter as I wrap my arms around his neck, stepping into the kiss like a woman starved.
His tongue flicks against my lips, and when I open for him, he claims me with a groan that I answer just as eagerly.
I’m slammed back to a dance floor, lit by blue neon light, as he kissed me for the first time. It all comes flooding back, the memory swirling with my current reality, where we’re kissing as if our lives depend on it.
Fuck, he’s good at this. The best. Kissing him incriminates every other man I’ve ever kissed before now, because Colin is the master. This man, who consistently stays in control no matter what, is controlling this kiss in the absolute best way. If this is what happens when I let him take the lead, then what else might happen?
He breaks the kiss and angles my neck for better access, nipping at the skin and following it with a tender suckle. I inhale a sharp hiss, the brush of his tongue against my skin heating me like a firework.
“More.” The word comes out like a groan.
His lips find mine again and he intensifies the kiss, turning us and backing me toward the massage table.
Wordlessly, he lifts me and sits me on the table, stepping between my spread legs as I pull him closer. But it still isn’t enough. The angle isn’t enough. I don’t know what I want, only that this isn’t it.
I push him, and he releases the kiss with a breathless, “What is it?”
I stand, the move forcing him backward as I look up at him, not knowing what I need. I can’t explain it.
His eyes darken as he licks his lips. I follow the movement. “Let me kiss you again, Sam.”
A spark of doubt flares to life, but I tamp it down and reach for him once more. He takes me in his arms with a moan, and I nearly come apart at the sound. This is what I need. Him unraveling. It’s not his control I want; it’s him undone.
My hands are everywhere, exploring the planes of his chest beneath the too-big T-shirt, then swinging around to feel his back. When I let one hand travel to the waistband of his track pants, he doesn’t stop me. So I dip in, marveling at the thickness of him. It’s exactly like I remembered. Or at least I think I remember.
He hisses as I squeeze him lightly, pulling his mouth away to nuzzle at my neck as his own hand moves to grasp my breast. Even through the sports bra and shirt, the heat of his touch is searing. His thumb drags across my nipple, and I arch into his touch, palming his dick as I go.
“Fuck, Sam,” he breathes.
“Yeah,” I agree, baring my neck for more of his mouth.
He drags his hand down the front of my shirt, not bothering to hesitate as he moves lower. He cups me between my legs, and I jerk at the sensation. A low chuckle escapes him. “There she is,” he murmurs.
I capture his mouth again, his beard scraping my skin in the process. His kisses are drugging, intoxicating things. Addictive. My core tightens as his palm presses against me, and I grind against him shamelessly.
My phone pings, and he breaks the kiss, both of us breathing hard as his forehead rests on mine. “Sam.”
I quirk a smile. “You keep saying that.”
He lets his hand drop away, and I want to protest at the loss of it. Instead, I squeeze him again, then let my fingers trail along the shaft.
He jerks his hips back with a resigned groan, a wry smile on his lips as I pull my hand out of his pants. Instead of saying anything, he takes my mouth in his once more, and I lose myself to the kiss. The man is an expert and I don’t care anymore. If he was trying to bring me to my knees, metaphorical, literal or otherwise, he’s done it. Unquestionably.
“No,” I wheedle as his hands slide back into total safe for work category.
“We can’t. Not here,” he says, pulling back to look me in the eye. “Because when I make you come for the first time, Samantha, you’re going to remember it.”
My body flushes as I realize the depth of what he’s saying. We didn’t do anything in Vegas.
He studies me. “I couldn’t…not then. I wanted to. God, I wanted to. But you deserved –deserve– so much more.”
