Page 117 of Bent Out of Shade
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I crossed my arms. “No.”
The look on his face was priceless. “No?”
“Are you going to stop being friends with everyone who saw you all halfsies or is it just me?”
“The others aren’t going to remember what a monster I was every time we have sex,” he snapped.
“Dude.” Grimacing, I shook my head. “Two of those people are your family. Watch the phrasing. Plus, sex? You’re getting ahead of yourself here.”
His nostrils flared. “You’re enjoying this.”
“Immensely, but you know my sense of humor. It’s one of the things that attracted you to me most.”
“Not at all,” he said haughtily.
I dragged my fingers down his chest, relishing his hiss. “Sure it is. Just like how your grumpy outer layer hiding your enormous heart did it for me.”
He caught my hand and bit my index finger, his lips teasing into a wicked smile at my inhale. “My enormous heart, was it?”
“What else could it be?” I blinked at him innocently and laughed as he pushed me onto my back and pinned my arms against the mattress.
He licked his bottom lip. “What was number seven on that list of yours?”
“You heard that?” I made a sad face. “But you’ve already taken a shower.”
“Hmm.” He leaned over and brushed his nose against mine. “I guess we can wing it this once, but we’ll be revisiting this.”
“Yes, because lists are…”
Laurent’s breath was hot in my ear as he sucked on my lobe. “Are what?”
I shivered, tangling into the twin scents of cedar and soap. “Important.”
“Oui. Your exceptional list-making skills have become a turn-on.” He straddled me, rocking forward to press his erection against my body, his eyes sliding along my skin with a fierce hunger.
“Wait till you see how I color-code an Excel sheet.” A wild restlessness built inside me, and I grabbed his hands and thrust them under my sweater and up to my breasts, needing his touch more than oxygen.
Laurent flicked callused fingers against my nipples, capturing my moan with his mouth. He tasted like mint toothpaste and kissed with the abandon of a lover who had nothing left to hide.
I threaded my fingers into his damp curls and swept one hand to the nape of his neck to pull him closer, reveling in the almost vicious crest of our kiss that ebbed to a teasing, soft caress, the two of us floating lazily in these new waters.
He tugged my sweater off, and I yanked on the hem of his T-shirt impatiently, pulling him close to feel the heat and slide of our skin. He nipped and licked along my neck to my collarbone, popping open my fly, while I flexed my bare feet against his in giddy delight.
I sat up onto my elbows and Laurent cocked an eyebrow. There were stray wolf hairs on his left biceps from the sheets, I had stretch marks on my belly, yet all I saw were the stories that had led us to this moment. I cupped his cheek and brushed my lips against his.
His eyes darkened and he pounced, shucking off my jeans while I pushed his shorts to the floor. My hands suddenly didn’t move fast enough to touch him as much as I craved: a stroke along the divot in his hip, my nails rasping across his back, and my thumb slipping over the head of his cock.
Laurent nudged my legs wider, one hand pleasuring me, and grinned.
I sucked on his neck, snaky tendrils of lust flaring up at the pads of his fingers pressing against me one by one as if he was playing Chopin on my skin. Wrapping one leg around his waist, I arched against him and his fingers slipped over my clit and inside me.
His quiet moan was barely more than a breath. “I can smell your desire.” He pressed his index finger to my mouth. The taste of me on his skin made me clutch my thighs, and I bucked up to meet his hot, messy kiss, growling when he broke it to grab a condom.
“Attends,” he muttered, before tearing the package open with his teeth.
I flipped over onto all fours, throwing a saucy grin over my shoulder.
