Hot Under His Collar - Andie J. Christopher Page 0,90

of his fingers, and her grip on his head slackened.

She let go of his hair and touched his neck and shoulders like she couldn’t be quite sure that he was really there. She moved slowly, deliberately, as though she needed to memorize his body before consuming it. His mouth wandered farther down; his tongue dipped in her belly button.

And then he was on his knees in front of her. It felt sacrilegious, this worshipful feeling of completeness he felt staring at the core of her through innocent lace panties. But it didn’t feel wrong. For the first time in a long time, he felt as though he were where he needed to be. He rubbed his nose against the soft skin of her gently curved belly and she shuddered. That she was just as affected by what was between them magnified the rightness in his spirit.

The atmosphere of rightness grew when he slipped his fingers in her panties and pulled them down, when he put his mouth on her center and kissed her there deeply. The smell of her made him so hard that he almost collapsed right there.

“Spread your legs, honey.” She was honey, nectar, the only food he would ever crave. She spread her legs and he opened her, sucking her clit into his mouth. She cried out and held on to his shoulders as he kissed her. She made incoherent sounds that reached down and stroked him like a hand. He didn’t stop, couldn’t. When she came on his face, he was surprised he didn’t join her because it was so intensely pleasurable to give her pleasure.

When it stopped, she knelt down in front of him.

The sounds that came out of Sasha’s mouth made him feel like a god of sex. He felt raw and exposed, as if his parts were outside his skin, and he hadn’t even been inside her. Fucking her was going to kill him, and he didn’t care. He hated that they’d denied themselves this since they’d met years ago through their friends, but also knew that neither of them had been ready.

“I knew you were the one for me the moment that I saw you,” she said, reaching out to touch his face. She looked flushed and debauched. He loved her so much that it hurt to stare at her too long. It hurt because she’d always been able to see inside him. She’d always admired him as a person, even when he didn’t think he deserved admiration.

He only hoped that he could give that back to her. But neither of them had words in that moment, so he kissed her again. She worked the buttons free on his shirt, obviously feeling the same urgency that he was.

Once she’d pushed the shirt off his shoulders, he helped her by pulling off the sleeves so she could go for his belt, as though what was inside his pants was a Christmas present. He needed her to hurry up and wanted to slow things down at the same time.

“I don’t want to fuck you on the living room rug,” he said, putting a hand over her wrist to stop her from pulling him out of his trousers and boxers.

“You can be on the bottom if you’re worried about giving me rug burn.” It felt so weird to be talking about fucking her, to hear these words coming out of his own mouth.

It was weird, but also good.

They could do this.

He belonged to her.

This was real.

He kissed the base of her neck, causing a whole-body shiver. “You can have anything you want.”

He knew her well enough to know that she wouldn’t trust that she could have him. He knew that it would take a lot of time to believe that what they had wouldn’t be ripped away from either of them. But Patrick lay down on her living room rug and tugged off his pants.

“I get to keep you.” The best present she’d ever had.

“And I get to keep you.” He smiled at her. “But you might not get to keep me for long if you don’t get over here.”

He was still wearing boxer briefs, so she climbed on top of him and pulled off his underwear. She fisted him in her hand and bent down to kiss him. His whole body shuddered. He put his hands in her hair, and she stilled for a moment, remembering the way that he used to look at her long hair and reliving the moment that she cut