This was another, different, kind of kiss.
I thought the one in my office was deep, thorough and heated.
It had nothing on this.
It wasn’t only the delicious tongue action. There were heads slanting this way and that (both of ours). Hair being gripped (only mine) and gripped in a sexy way that pulled at my scalp rough but gentle and so hot I felt the area between my legs get wet. Hands were doing a lot of roaming (three of them, one of Chace’s, both of mine under his sports jacket).
It was wild. Abandoned. Rough. Wet. Intense. Fiery. Thorough. Exquisite. Heart-pounding. Blood-singing. Soul-rocking. Life-altering.
Luscious.
When Chace tore his mouth from mine, I actually felt it take a supreme effort for him to do it. His strong hand was cupping my behind. His other one was fisted in my hair. One of my arms was cocked, forearm and palm pressed flat against his lat, pulling him to me. My other arm was wound around his back, hand fisted in his shirt. Our breath was coming heavy, fast, mingling as it brushed our lips.
I slowly opened my eyes and at what I saw in his, another rush of wet surged between my legs and my fist in his shirt tightened.
Undone by the kiss, forlorn that it ended, mindlessly and idiotically I asked the first question that popped into my head.
“Do you like my dress?”
Chace’s head jerked even as he blinked. When his features righted he stared down at me half a second before his hand went out of my hair, his other one slid up my back and both of his arms closed around me super tight. He bent his head, shoved his face in my neck and burst out laughing.
I decided to take that as a yes.
* * * * *
Eleven seventeen that night
“I gotta go, baby,” Chace whispered against my lips.
We were making out, standing just inside my door. We’d arrived back about ten minutes ago. I still had my coat on, Chace his jacket. When we stepped in, he’d closed the door but immediately pulled me into his arms.
Dinner was fabulous (not a surprise). Conversation was easy. Smiles were frequent. Laughter the same.
In the car there and back, I found out Chace listened to country (also not a surprise) and it was good country.
Now the night was over.
And I really, really didn’t want it to be.
Still, I whispered back, “Okay.”
Chace didn’t move, not even his lips that were still a breath from mine.
“Good mornin’ call tomorrow.”
Goodie!
“Okay.”
“My turn for our kid but I didn’t have time to do anything.”
“That’s okay. On my lunch hour I bought him some more books, some comics, a flashlight, some batteries, a toothbrush, toothpaste, a few packs of gum, more water and some more candy bars. I also wrote the note and added a notepad and some pens so he could write back.”
I felt Chace’s smile against my lips at the same time I saw it in his eyes.
“I’ll take the weekend,” he offered.
“All right,” I accepted.