body as he removes his shoes and socks before joining me on the bed. “Now we’re both shoeless,” he says, grinning at me.
I try to return his smile, but I’m nervous about the position I find myself in. What happens if tomorrow morning I wake up and find this was all a terrible mistake? As much as I don’t want to admit it, I’ve got feelings for Sam that go beyond flirtation. I like him, maybe more than like him. He’s not setting off my bells, but every lesson I’ve ever learned is telling me this could be a mistake. What am I willing to risk to see if he’s the one?
He leans into me, sweeping the pad of his thumb across my lips once again. We stare into one another’s eyes, and I know he can feel my hesitation.
“We don’t have to do this,” he says.
I swallow, unable to keep my gaze from dropping to his mouth. I wonder if I kiss him now, will he turn into a frog? I move forward and pull his bottom lip between mine, putting as much trust and hope as I dare into the kiss. Sam responds with vigor, pushing me back into the bed and caressing my tongue with his. I feel him shift position on the bed, then his lips leave me. He hovers above me, holding himself away from my body so he can look down on me. He spreads my hair across the pillow and reaches out to gently rub the strands between his fingers, allowing them to fall back to the bed. He stares intently at me, his eyes roaming my face but never settling on any one place for long.
“You’re beautiful,” he says.
My tongue darts out to moisten my dry lips. His eyes follow the movement and he makes a deep guttural noise before lowering himself down to again claim my mouth. His kiss is soft at first, his lips gently pressing against and parting my own, but he becomes more insistent with each contact. I reach up and place my hands against his chest which is a now a mere inch from my own. I can feel the steadiness of his heart beating beneath his t-shirt and I’m comforted by the fact that, magic whiskey or not, his passion matches my own.
His mouth is slanted, his lips working both with and against mine. I deepen the kiss and our bodies finally make contact as he presses me into the mattress. A moan escapes my throat and I raise my head to push against him, frantic in my need to feel every part of him. I have to remind myself to breathe and gulp in much-needed air between feverish kisses. It seems so trivial to draw a breath when he’s kissing me with such abandon.
He removes his lips from mine and finds my earlobe instead. When his mouth moves away from my ear and instead gently nibbles at the sensitive spot below my jaw, I nearly buck him off, but his strong hands hold my writhing body firmly in place. His hand moves down to find the hem of my dress and his fingers slowly inch the fabric upwards as he trails kisses down my throat. I move urgently beneath him and when he places one strong thigh against my center, I feel his excitement through the thick fabric of his jeans.
“Good Lord almighty, girl. Your moving around is driving me crazy,” he says, kissing his way back up to my mouth.
I decide there’s way too much talking going on and thrust my tongue deeper into his mouth to shut him up. His right hand grabs a fistful of my dress and he firmly pulls the fabric up, exposing my simple cotton panties. I can feel him holding back, perhaps out of some misguided attempt at chivalry, so I roll my hips up and down, urging him to relieve me of this obstacle of a dress. He obliges me immediately and uses both hands to bring the dress up around my waist.
I work quickly at removing my belt as he rocks back to tear off his t-shirt. His chest is tan and sparsely covered in sandy hair that’s begging my fingers to run through it. He grabs me at the waist, pulling me up to straddle him. I lean my head back so he can lick, kiss and caress my throat as his hands unzip me. When he lifts the material away from my body, I