Imagine With Me (With Me in Seattle #15) - Kristen Proby Page 0,19
head and tosses it to the floor. I fist his soft gray cotton tee in my hands and pull it up, exposing rock-hard and tanned abs.
“Holy hell.” I swallow hard. “Are we still setting ground rules, or can I go ahead and lick your stomach?”
He growls. “Still talking, so keep your tongue to yourself. Because once we get started, there’s no going back.”
I take a deep breath and finish tugging the shirt over his head and throw it on the floor with mine. Next, my finger dives into the waistband of his jeans, and I bite my lower lip when the tip of my finger meets the head of his cock.
“Wow.”
He closes his eyes and clenches his jaw. “Fuck.”
“Oh, I hope we will, yes.”
He laughs and urges my hand away from his pants, then kisses my palm and presses it against his chest. With his eyes on mine, he keeps talking.
“I just want to make sure we’re on the same page here. We’re going to have some of the best sex of our lives, work on this project, and then go our separate ways when it’s over.”
I’m already nodding my head. “Coworkers with benefits. I’m on board with that.”
“Really?”
My eyes fly to his. “Yes. Really. Seriously okay with it. If you are.”
He watches me carefully, as if he’s looking to make sure I’m not lying, so I raise my chin and arch a brow.
“Unless you’re having second thoughts?”
That gets him moving. He crowds me, unfastens my bra with masterful fingers, and lets it fall to the floor while his mouth slants over mine, kissing and biting as if he’s a starved man. I unfasten his pants, and they slouch around his hips. My hands glide down his back to the top of his exposed ass, and I push under the denim to work his jeans off until they pool at his feet.
Without another thought, I cup his impressive manhood in my palm and enjoy the warm, smooth skin. The weight of him. And then, for a brief moment, I panic.
He’s a big man, in both stature and penis size. This massive thing is never going to fit.
But before I can give voice to my concerns, Shawn lifts me and carries me down the hallway to his bedroom. The sidelight is already on next to the bed when he sets me on the mattress and climbs over me, kissing his way up my torso as he goes.
When he plucks at my nipples with his lips, I think I might die of pleasure.
My hands dive into his hair as he kisses along my collarbone and up my neck to my jawline.
“You’re so good with your mouth,” I whisper.
His hand finds mine, and as he links our fingers, he backs away so he can stare down at me with those intense green eyes.
“Sometimes, I like things a little rough. A lot intense,” he says.
“Do I need a safe word?”
He doesn’t laugh, or even smile for that matter. “It’s a good idea.”
Well, now I’m beyond curious. And turned on. “How about stop?”
“Anytime you say ‘stop,’ I’ll check in with you. Every time. But you need another word that tells me if you think you’re in trouble.”
“I’m not into breath play, or being choked.”
“Me either.” He nuzzles my cheek and then places a kiss there. “I’m into pleasure, Lex. Lots of it. But I need a word from you to let me know if I’ve gone too far.”
“Watermelon.”
He raises a brow and then smiles. “Any reason for that choice?”
“I hate it.”
“That works.” He kisses my nose. “I’m going to do things to you that you’ve never dreamed of. And when I’m done, you’ll be begging for more.”
“Or passed out in bliss,” I reply and drag my hand down his side to his ass. “You’re in excellent shape for a writer.”
He kisses the ball of my shoulder. “What are writers supposed to look like?”
“I don’t know. And I know it’s a horrible statement. I’m just saying, based on your muscle mass, I’d expect you to tell me you carry trees for a living or something.”
That makes him laugh-snort. “Trees?”
“Heavy things.” I can’t stop my hands from roaming. His skin, his body is every girl’s fantasy.
“You look like you run marathons,” he says.
“Not anymore.”
His head comes up and he stares down at me. “You ran marathons?”
“Like ten years ago, yeah. Before the writing became all-consuming. I miss it sometimes. Okay, let’s not talk about this.”
“In about three minutes, you’re not going to be able to talk at