finding it fucking impossible to do the same.
So, fuck it.
A gentle approach, just to see what she did. If she showed even the least sign of resistance, I’d back off again.
I slid toward her, only an inch or two. But it was enough to close the distance between us, to make the space and the moment go from close, but still mostly platonic, to definitely, unmistakably intimate.
I reached out, slowly, telegraphing my movement, and rested my hand on the swell of her hip.
A moment fraught with boiling sexual tension followed.
She said nothing, and neither did I. But our eyes, and the unexpressed feelings boiling between us…it said everything.
She wanted more. To be touched. To touch me.
But there was still the reticence, the fear, and the worry. The “but what if” lingering within her.
I was about to remove my hand when she hissed, a catlike sound. “Fuck it,” she murmured.
Her palm touched my cheek, scratching and smoothing and caressing my stubble. And then her lips touched mine. Soft at first. Gently questing. Testing. Tasting.
She broke away—mere centimeters—her beautiful pale brown eyes searching my face.
“Oh thank fuck,” I breathed.
And then I kissed her.
Torie
Lordy, but the man was a good kisser.
He legitimately took my breath away, stole it, demanded it, devoured it. His tongue was all over my mouth, searching and delving, and his lips were soft, pliant, and strong. His hand cupped the side of my face, and he brought me closer to him. His stubble was scratchy against my upper lip, tickling, sort of rough, but in a delicious, intoxicating kind of way.
I was under the covers, he on top of them. He’d tugged the blanket up to hide his hard-on, and I found myself wishing he hadn’t. I wanted to see it.
To touch it. To hold it.
To wrap my lips around it. To feel him surge, throb, and explode.
I’d done that once, with Max, and I’d enjoyed his reactions. That had also been the last time I’d seen him, over a month ago. And that, coincidentally, had been the last time someone other than me had given me an orgasm.
And I wanted one, from Rhys. Because it just wasn’t the same taking care of yourself.
But Rhys had said he couldn’t stop partway.
Oh god, my brain. Why wouldn’t my brain stop?
He was still kissing me, and I was delirious from it. Completely breathless. He pulled me toward him, rolled to his back, and I went with it. I slid over top of him and straddled him. God, he was big. Lean, hard. So strong, so powerfully built, like a wolf. His hand brushed my cheek and cupped my jaw, still kissing me, still devouring me like he’d never kissed anyone before, and would die immediately if we stopped kissing. His other hand grazed over my back. My T-shirt had hiked up which meant, considering I was wearing a teeny little string thong, my ass was bare. And his hands were headed that way.
Yes, oh yes. Please, please put your hands on my ass. I wanted his touch in the worst way. Ever since I’d seen those big strong hands wrapped around the steering wheel the first moment we met, I’d wanted him touch me. Then I’d seen those hands covered in grease, and the need to have his hands on me had only gotten stronger.
His palms slid down my spine, teasing each knob of vertebrae, dancing, scratching, smoothing. My ability to remain focused on the kiss caught a hitch as his hands neared my tailbone.
And then, god, oh glory; he was cradling my ass in his hands like it was the Holy Grail. He growled, a wolfish noise low in his throat—raw male appreciation. My body showed its appreciation for his touch by flexing my hips into his.
Holy shit, oh my god, dear lord, was that his cock?
I’d seen it, sure, but only from a distance, and wrapped in his fist.
I’d known it was big, but…
I shivered, breaking the kiss, touching my forehead to his.
“Okay?” he whispered.
I nodded. I pulled back enough to be able to look him in the eye again. But I had no clue what to say.
I needn’t have worried. My body did the talking.
My hips flexed, and when he kneaded my ass again, I whimpered. My mouth dropped to his and my lips slashed across his, but I need to sate a curiosity: what would his stubble taste like, what would it feel like as I kissed it? So, I set about finding out. I kissed his