Daddy Crush - Adriana Anders Page 0,17

wants me to show her the ropes. “Come here.”

She’s in my arms in under two seconds flat and I remember, Christ, I remember, how good she felt.

Only the kiss is better tonight, frantic and heated, like we’ve been plopped down in the middle of this attraction, instead of starting in the very beginning like the other night.

And, goddamn, the middle is one hell of an inferno. She’s wrapped around me, stroking, feeling, consuming me—arms, shoulders, neck—like she’s been thinking about doing this and she’s finally got the chance.

Which is precisely how I feel. There’s no measuring or careful weighing here, no learning or getting to know each other—this shit is fire. And I’m jumping in headfirst. Lips, teeth, tongue, and every one of my senses.

My hand’s in her hair, holding her tight, tighter. So tight, she stumbles back to land against the door. She deepens the kiss and those moans—the ones I couldn’t get enough of at the bar—are back, only they’re hungrier. Shit, that hadn’t seemed possible.

I yank myself back, with difficulty. “Like this?”

She nods, wraps her hand around my neck and pulls me back in and, fuck, I’ve got to feel her, taste her, smell her down there. One fist’s got her pegged to the door, the other slides over her thin sweater, feeling warm, curvy flesh beneath.

I slip under the sweater to find soft skin, grunt at the heat, and stroke down to where her rounded hip’s the perfect size and give. Another pained sound tears from my throat. My hips tilt forward until my cock’s against her. Dammit. This isn’t right.

I rip myself away from her plush, hungry mouth and hover there, breathing her air, her smell, her high whimpers.

“Shit, Jerusha.” I glide my mouth over the side of her face to her ear and whisper, “You’re killing me.”

“S’it okay? Am I doing it right?”

What?

I loosen my hold on her hip, breathe, and pull away. Just a little, ’cause, shit, I’m not ready to put space between us yet.

“I’m on fire.”

I don’t hear her laugh as much as I feel it—a vibration from her chest to mine. “Good.” Her lips curve up, puffy and pink and more sensual than anything I’ve touched before.

She tilts her hips forward to meet mine again. Air escapes me. “Watch out.” I whisper, meeting her playful gaze. “I’m an old man. Been a while since I had this much excitement.”

She lets out a teasing giggle. “You just picked up a guy and threw him out on the sidewalk.”

I plant a firm kiss on her lips, drinking in the unfamiliar taste of her—just one more for the road. “I could do that in my sleep. This…” I step back and indicate the space between us. “This is rare.” I don’t tell her it’s not just the actions I mean, it’s the sensation. Not just the newness of her, but the… Shit, I’ve got to tell her. I’m done keeping shit back. “We’ve got…chemistry, you and I. That’s what I mean. Not just that we’re kissing. It’s that we’re kissing and the whole fucking world could explode and I couldn’t care less.”

She huffs out a sound. “Thought it was just me.”

Our gazes meet and hold, like they’re meant to, and I spend the next few seconds in my head, because frankly, this shit’s scary. I’ve been married, dammit. I’ve been in love. It’s just never been like this. Incendiary. I worry about her. I worry about myself.

But not enough to stop this.

I’m not an idiot.

With a smile, I tuck her hair behind her ear and give her enough space to finally move. “Better get back. Make sure the restaurant hasn’t blown up.”

The look she throws me is decidedly flirtatious. If I didn’t know better, I’d say the woman knows exactly what she’s doing. “They probably called the fire department on us,” she says and it’s so goofy, so unexpected—this whole damn thing—that I laugh, the sound trailing off as I throw my arms around her and give her a happy hug. I kiss the top of her head and put her away from me.

“Let’s go see if your second course is ready.”

7

Blister in the Sun

Jerusha

Magic. Pure magic. The night, the food—dishes and dishes, tastes and flavors like I’ve never experienced. Steak and sweet potatoes and roasted mushrooms, green bean French fries, hot fiery slaw and a bright, tangy salad that almost made me weep. Every dish I tried had him going back into the kitchen for more, as if my reactions fed him