Dear Roomie (Rookie Rebels #5) - Kate Meader Page 0,68

been a while for me.”

“How long?”

“A couple of months.”

He scoffed. “Talk to me when you’re four months out from your last fuck.”

She licked her lips. His eyes blazed with a flash of threatening heat.

“So what are we going to do about it?” That was about as blatant an invitation as she could make it. If he said “nothing,” she would be disappointed but at least she’d know where they stood. Again.

“I realize it’s difficult for you, Kennedy. I’m here with my excellent body and my adorable dog, so you’re bound to be susceptible. Any woman would be.”

Hold the phone. Was he implying she was the one dying for release here, and not him?

“And I realize it’s difficult for you, Reid. Four months celibate and maybe another five—”

“Six.”

“Six to go. I’m here with my yoga-flexible body and my great rack and my in-your-face cheer, so you’re bound to be a little desperate. Any man would be.”

He laughed, a deep sound from the gut that revealed hidden lines around his eyes and something shocking about herself.

She was falling for this grumpy, serious, surprising man.

It shouldn’t be possible. This was merely forbidden fruit, a yearning for what he wouldn’t surrender. She refused to become tangled in a man as complicated as Reid Durand.

He still held her wrists but now he let them go, slipping his hands to her waist which he squeezed as he pulled her closer.

There it is.

His cock was as hard as the ice he would skate on tonight and nothing had ever felt so right against her belly. His hands coasted to her hips, his thumbs pressing into the crease of her thighs, then V’ing down lower. And all this time, those piercing eyes stayed on her face. The rare Reid laugh was no more; now he was back to that gravity which had its own delicious pull.

“No funny business,” he murmured as his mouth drew near. His lips brushed hers. A teasing tickle.

But she would not be satisfied with that. No funny business indeed! Realizing that her hands were finally free, she gripped his biceps for leverage and pressed her lips to his. His mouth slanted, parted, fitted, seeking the perfect angle.

He moaned and it was glorious.

“Kennedy, tell me what you need.”

“Everything.” Too much. Too greedy. But she would not take it back.

She hooked her leg around his hip—he was tall but she was flexible—and gave him a recess in which to settle. One hand stretched up to palm his neck. His hand, that large, long-fingered, artist’s hand gripped her ass, pulling her up and flush until they were slotted like the final two pieces in a too-complex-for-this-moment puzzle.

He remained still. So still she almost wondered if this was all he wanted. A moment’s peace in the cradle of her body. A home for them both.

Then it started.

A slow, dirty rock of his hips against her core.

Oh God.

The hardest part of him found the softest part of her and set about destroying her for anyone else. Because they were playing by some weird rulebook that said this wasn’t breaking Reid’s vow of celibacy, they found their erotic, wet kicks with his mouth devouring hers, his tongue licking inside her in a way that promised unbelievable oral talents. Yet she didn’t feel like she was missing out. This was as intimate an experience as she’d ever had.

His lips moved to her jaw, a nip of her ear, a suck of her neck. He whispered her name, which she’d never thought sounded all that special. On Reid’s lips it was poetry.

Lifting her body against his, he ground his cock into the notch of damp heat between her legs. Their mouths clashed in a smash of need and want, so much so that explosion seemed to be the only possible conclusion. Dry humping her against a kitchen counter probably wasn’t the plan but this was where they’d ended up.

There was a strange, restrained beauty in it.

The pleasure rising in her blood had already exceeded foreplay levels. This was close to peaking. Close to coming.

“Reid,” she whispered as the pleasure started to wind its way from where his lips and hands and eyes touched her. His erection dragged along the seam of her yoga pants, each pass ratcheting up the tension. Substituting his hand in a lusty drag between her legs, he applied his fingers to the holiest of work, massaging and pressing just right.

She shook her head, barely able to fathom how good it felt. His breaths were pants against her lips,