The Slow Burn (Moonlight and Motor Oil #2) - Kristen Ashley Page 0,56
bought them on sale at Crate and Barrel.
White. Modern. Clean lines. Simple shapes.
But I didn’t care.
They worked and were no muss, no fuss. They could be cream. They could be black. They matched any towels.
They just . . . were.
I found this oddly fascinating and it was what was on my mind when I walked out to the door of the bathroom, opened it, shut out the light and saw Toby in my bed, bare-chested, comforter to his waist.
I got sidetracked by the chest (as any girl would be wont to do).
Though it was also hard to miss he looked good under my comforter, all that olive skin and dark hair. My bedclothes were something that also came up from Tennessee. The comforter was white with some gray bubbles in a design on it. And the sheets were white too.
It didn’t match Izzy’s bed, which was a miracle of curving and looping distressed iron.
But on its own, I liked it.
I stopped by the side of the bed and looked to Toby.
“I don’t care about bathroom accessories,” I announced.
His eyes, locked to my nightie, slid up to my face.
“Say what?”
“My bathroom accessories are white.”
He stared at me.
“They go with everything,” I went on.
He continued to stare at me.
“Same thing, kinda, with this comforter,” I told him, indicating the comforter with a movement of my hand. “I don’t care about home décor,” I declared. “It has to be functional, not ugly, and easy to mix and match.”
“How much do you give a shit that I don’t give a shit about any of this shit you’re saying to me right now?” Toby asked.
“If this works with us, I might be decorating our home, in this case, decorating it in a functional way,” I pointed out. “So you have to know.”
“Let me rephrase,” he said. “How much do you give a shit I don’t give a shit about any of this shit you’re saying to me right now standing by the bed in that fuckin’ amazing nightie, with your sex-bomb hair, when my dick is hard? But just to put your mind at ease so you’ll shut up and get in bed, I like to have space around me that’s nice so, when it comes down to that, I’ll be all over it and it’ll be functional, but it’ll also look cool.”
I had noticed his pad was pretty boss.
I thought about that a microsecond.
Then I thought about his dick being hard.
I looked that way.
“Babe, get in bed,” he commanded.
I looked to his face.
“I really think we have to have this home décor situation hammered out,” I teased.
He rolled, reached out a long arm, and I had to bite back crying out when he caught my wrist and yanked me into bed.
I landed on him, he rolled again so I was on my back and he was on me, and with barely a few moves we were tangled in each other and the comforter.
I looked into his ridiculously handsome face and shared, “You do know, with your modern-day caveman act of hauling me around, it’s so hot, we’re never gonna go slow.”
He grinned down at me. “You wet?”
“I was wet before I left the bathroom.”
His grin changed, his face changed, I felt both changes in my womb, and both got closer as his hands made moves, yanking the comforter out from in between.
“Let’s see,” he murmured.
Then he kissed me.
God, I loved his taste, the feel of his beard, the smell of him.
I slid my fingers into his hair.
And I loved his thick hair.
His hand found my thigh, skin to skin, which meant he had his target in reach.
He didn’t delay.
But his lips (and beard) slid to my neck as his fingers whispered over the damp gusset of my panties.
I sighed.
“You’re wet,” he murmured in my ear.
I bore down on his hand, turning my head.
He caught my mouth and hooked a finger in the gusset, tugging down.
He shifted to the side and I took my hands from his hair to help him pull down my panties.
I had to wheel my legs a little to get them off.
Toby pulled them free and they went flying.
Then I was on my back, he had angled his body away, yanking the rest of the comforter free. And when he succeeded in fully releasing me, his hands were at my hips, and he ended the kiss with his teeth sunk into my lower lip.