SLOW PLAY (7-Stud Club #4) - Christie Ridgway Page 0,39
she swept the covers off his body. Instead of looking the least bit embarrassed, he tucked one arm behind his head.
“Such a man,” she murmured. “Now hold still while I let my lust for you simmer, then boil.”
“Simmer away,” he said, his gaze on her. “Boil on.”
She sat back on her pillow and let the sheet fall to her waist. Her head turned so she could take in all of him, those pecs, the ripple of rock-hard abs, the cock that lay thick and quiet until her glance ran over it.
Then it twitched, growing, stiffening.
Her heart moved into her throat. Beneath the sheet, her legs shifted, suddenly restless.
Between them, need. Lust.
“Let me see,” he said in a hoarse whisper.
The room was too hot for covers anyway. She kicked them off, then slid her heels up the mattress as her knees edged apart. Air touched her wet flesh.
Her gaze ran over his body again as she reached down. Slow, gentle fingers. The heat of him beside her. Was she really doing this?
His lips quirked and then his free hand moved to his erection. Long fingers circled his flesh.
Were they really doing this?
But it was just a game, a fun sex game, and he was so beautiful and watching him pleasure himself, well…
So arousing.
Sexy.
And astonishingly personal.
Their breath quickened together. Hot chills flashed over her skin. Her womb felt heavy and her fingers moved faster. His hand followed suit.
“God, Harp,” he said.
Her gaze jumped to his and the heat in them made her belly clench, her womb clench, the climax just waiting crashed over her.
His bicep swelled and the movements of his hand quickened, blurred. Then he came, the action raw, his pleasure noises unfiltered.
The whole experience…intimate.
They continued staring at each other as they recovered, their chests heaving, their bellies hollowing. As the fog of satiation evaporated, she didn’t look away from him. He didn’t look away from her. A new feeling crept in, something warm and delicate, like expensive perfume on the breeze, like a good thought not quite completed, like a fantasy that wouldn’t wholly materialize.
Her fingers curled into her palms as if to hold onto it.
But she couldn’t name it.
A while later, she refused his offer to shower together.
“It’s a tiny stall, so I won’t take it personally,” he said, smiling down at her inert form, reclining on the bed. “But I will have the first shower and then make coffee.”
Still hungover from pleasure, she listened to the shush of the water. Leaving now might not be a bad idea, she mused. It would eliminate any goodbyes that needed to be said, any compliments that would only feed his ego, any discomfort she might feel at seeing him in her rearview mirror.
The sight of water droplets on his wide shoulders and a towel wrapped around his lean waist proved to be distracting enough that she forgot to get out of bed until he was dressed and had left for the kitchen. In the small bathroom, she found fresh towels where he’d said they’d be, a new toothbrush beside the sink, and the smell of him in the leftover steam.
Talk about distraction.
After an application of soap and water, she went commando beneath yesterday’s jeans. There was a T-shirt draped across the bottom of the bed—now made bed, because, God, of course Mad made beds—a green one that read “Duffy’s Does It Green & Local,” that she appropriated, tying the hem into a knot at her hip. On a hunch, she peeled back the quilt on the bed and noted the beige sheets—they’d been between blue. So Mad not only made beds, but he changed the linens, including hospital corners, after a visitor.
Not surprised.
Now she walked barefoot, finding her way to the kitchen. Turned away from her, he stood at the countertop, pouring coffee into mugs. Suddenly woozy, she gripped the back of a chair, that unnamed feeling taking over her body, making her heart suddenly gallop and her stomach dip and climb like a roller coaster.
As if he sensed her, his spine straightened, and then he slowly turned, his lips curving. “Hey,” he said softly, then held out a mug. “Light cream, one sugar.”
Happiness bubbled. He knew how she liked her morning beverage. That happiness then collided with that other unknown feeling as her hands cupped the mug of coffee. Her fingers tightened on the ceramic as she breathed in the scent, as she took hold of the truth.