Page 102 of If We Were Young

“What are you thinking about?” He took a sip from his mug. Mine sat on the counter, but to pick it up would mean letting go of my hold on him, I’d have to build up to that.

“I’m thinking if this can work. You up here, me down there, so many valid reasons for it to be impossible. You’ve barely met Hannah. You’ve got two children and I don’t even know their names.”

“Do you want it to work?” His question rumbled through his chest and vibrated against my arms.

This was the moment to say yes. Yes, Matthew I do. It seemed almost insurmountable, but yes.

Instead I said. “I think any good scientific approval of a theory needs more than one experiment to ensure it’s sound.”

He glanced back over at me. “Does it indeed?”

“So they say; you know, in the scientific journals and all that.”

“And you know much about scientific journals, do you?” He turned, placing his mug further over the counter and then sliding mine to sit next to it; the ugly mugs touching like they were holding hands.

“Yes. I read them all the time.” I squealed as he lifted me with ease and placed me on the counter.

“You don’t need to see the shops?” His lips dropped to my throat, skimming and nipping. I clutched onto the end of the countertop as tight as I could.

“I’ve got it all from that picture.”

“That’s good. It’s cold out there. Icy. We should stay inside as long as we can.”

He unpicked my fingers from their firm grip around his neck so he could lift my arms above my head and pull my jumper back off.

I’d officially got undressed more in the space of one morning than I had ever.

“These sweats are far too big for you.” With one arm braced against my back he lifted me and pulled down the trousers before placing me back down onto the cold surface, making me squirm. Underwear hadn’t been part of my stealth dressing when I’d left his room.

“I’m naked again.” I met his gaze.

“It’s part of the theory. Looking at you is like seeing the sun rise for the first time and knowing that it will never be the same again. That tomorrow the sunrise will still be there, but it will have changed; the pinks and oranges will blend into something different. Every movement you make is a stamp for my heart to collect.”

Oh my.

“Come here.” I caught his elbow in my hand and towed him closer until I could wrap my legs around him. “I didn’t know you collected stamps.”

“I don’t, but I want to fucking devour you.”

His hands almost enveloped me as he glided them down from my shoulders to the tips of my fingers. Then with his eyes meeting mine he unhooked my legs and lowered to his knees, pulling my arse to the edge of the countertop.

His lips skipped down my stomach and then as he ducked his head between the apex of my thighs, he pushed me back, so I leant against my elbows.

Good God, I hoped he didn’t have a cleaner on the weekends.

I whimpered as he swirled his tongue against me, his hands peeling open my legs.

I’d been missing out on this for how long?

I rolled my head back as he nibbled and stroked, teasing and taunting before being brutally direct and hard, sucking and then thrusting with his insanely talented tongue.

My fingers scraped in his scalp; the pale skin of my thighs illuminated by the heavy clouds the other side of the window.

He surged relentlessly and thoroughly, pushing and diving, flicking his tongue in unexpected places. I moaned in a way I’d never known. Feral and wild, it growled from my throat and his hands tightened on my flesh, squeezing me tight and lifting me higher until I became a cup of nectar he couldn’t get enough of.

My eyes screwed shut and my head flopped back. My legs straightened over his shoulders as I whimpered and cried his name.

I shivered with no control, almost sobbing.