Page 56 of Forbidden Forward

Would this be the right time to tell him that not only did he not hurt me, but I’m ready for another ride exactly like that one? Probably too much confession for a first date … or first tumble between the sheets … or whatever this is. It’s a first something, and I pray it’s not the last.

His expression is so earnest that I hurry to assure him, cradling one side of his face. “No, you didn’t hurt me.” I swallow my sudden embarrassment. “I-I liked it.”

Those eyebrows lift toward his messy hair line, and one side of his full mouth kicks up. His eyes don’t leave mine. “Yeah?”

Oh yeah! “Yes. Did you like it?” I blurt out. Why did I say that? I don’t think I want to know the answer—unless, of course, it’s yes.

The corners of his eyes crinkle, and a full smile curves that mouth I’ve decided I’m in love with. “Would it be too rude of me to say, ‘Fuck yeah’?”

I bark out a relieved laugh. “Not at all.” That response has my stomach fluttering with happy bubbles.

His eyes lower to my mouth. His voice lowers too as he comes in for a kiss. “Then fuck yeah,” he says right before he lays claim to my mouth once more. His fingers toy with my nipple, and I do squirm this time. It takes so little before he turns me into a shamelessly whimpering mess.

Drawing back, he pecks my lips and sits up. “Let me take care of this.” He motions toward his encased shaft that’s shrunk a little since it was sliding in and out of me, filling me, stretching me. The memory fires off another twinge of desire deep in my core.

He stands and walks toward the bathroom, er, head. I raise up on my elbows and enjoy the view of his long, strong back and that bite-worthy man-butt.

See? Shameless.

Fumbling, I stand up and wobble toward my pants, where I retrieve my phone. Shock winds through me as the time glows on the screen. Only fifteen minutes have passed since we started pawing at each other. How could I have traveled to another universe and back in that short of a span? My theory that we were overcome by a powerful urgency is now proved, and I giggle aloud.

Replacing my phone, I crawl back on the mattress. Now that our acrobatics are on pause, the chilly air steals over me, puckering my skin. I glance around the sparse room—berth—looking for a throw or a quilt so I don’t muss his bed further by crawling under the covers. Finding nothing, I curl into myself and wait for what seems forever.

When he finally reappears, he’s holding two steaming mugs. He’s still stark naked. “How about some tea with a little extra kick?”

Seriously? A hot, naked man bringing me tea laced with liquor? Yes, please. I brand the image into my brain before answering, “I’d love some.”

He sets the mugs on his nightstand-slash-shelf-slash-cabinet and glances at me. “Aren’t you cold?”

“A little,” I admit.

“Why didn’t you get under the covers?” He lifts one corner and motions me under.

“I didn’t want to muss your bed.”

A chuckle rumbles through him. “I’d say it’s a little late for that.” He waves a hand over the rumpled bedding and winks. “Not that I’m complaining. You can muss my bed anytime you want.”

My cheeks flush. “We kind of tore up the sheets.” Literally.

“More like burned them up.” His grin is little-boy adorable.

After I climb beneath, he flips on a reading lamp and joins me, encircling me in his arms and drawing me against his big warm body. My back partially rests against his carved chest, and he nuzzles my ear and drops a kiss on my temple. “I’ll warm you up.” His whispered words send chills down my spine.

“Promise?” I tease.

With two fingers, he turns my chin toward him. That smirk reappears, accompanied by a smoldering look. “Ask me real nice.”

God, I want to jump his bones already! To mask my lusty thoughts, I ask for the tea, which he passes me. Breaking apart, we prop our backs against the pillows, and I pull the covers up to hide my bare chest.

He stares blatantly at said chest. “Damn. Why’d you cover up those beauties?”

A nervous giggle gurgles out of me. “Because I’m cold, remember?”

“Well, we’ll have to do something about that.”

“About me being cold or the, um, cover job?”

The smile that follows is wicked. “Uh-huh.”