Text Me, Maybe - Jolyse Barnett Page 0,39

to unlatch the deadbolt. Whipping around to face him, she smiled. “I’m getting you back now, you cruel, cruel man.”

But he was up to the task, his mouth searing her lips and tongue, his questing hands bringing her to flames as they caressed and stroked and teased.

Kneading her through her top.

Under her top.

“Inside,” she breathed, heated and wiggling in response to his eager assault, her only conscious thought the need to get her hazel-eyed god into her lair. She reached behind her back, feeling for that elusive doorknob.

“Soon, baby. Let me—”

The door flew open with their weight, and—eep!—she fell backward into the apartment, his mouth slipping from hers while a hand still wrapped over her breast.

But his Mighty Thor strength halted her rapid descent and reversed their direction, returning them upright and back to safety.

“Oh.” He chuckled. “This inside.” Then a moment later. “Where were we?”

She reached for his shirt. “Right here.”

“Ah, Lexie…” He groaned, closing the distance between them, lifting her flush against him, one hand on the back of her head, the other around her waist. “You have no idea. Touching you is all I’ve thought about for three weeks. It was all I could do to keep my hands off you, waiting, hoping you’d want me, too.” His eyes searched hers. “I intend to make this the best night of your life, because you’ve already made it mine.”

How could this be?

But then he was kissing her, running his hands up and down her rib cage, grinning at her before slipping his head under her top to pleasure her breasts through the silk of her bra, rolling and tweaking her nipples.

Molten pleasure shot throughout her middle, and she panted, rubbing up against him, eager to get closer. It wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

He lifted his head and nuzzled her neck. “Where’s your bed?”

I thought you’d never ask.

“Here.” She stumbled back, then turned, throwing cushions and jerking the mattress up and out while he pushed the coffee table out of the way.

“Mad skills,” he acknowledged, dropping onto the bed with her.

“A record.” She lifted a leg over his hips and slid over and up, onto the tops of his thighs to straddle him.

Ready to ride.

“You like the power seat, huh?”

His tone was light, but his eyes shone with an intensity that made her want a closer look.

She leaned forward, creating a silky curtain around them with her hair.

His gaze fell to her mouth as he grazed a work-roughened thumb across her bottom lip. “I’ve waited so long, eons before we met.”

“You are a poet,” she whispered, her heart filled with awe.

His eyes hooded, he rolled her over, pinning her beneath his delicious length, and she surrendered to his kiss, grabbing his hair and locking him to her. Then she gave it all back and more, her mouth moving against his, telling him all she wanted him to do with her tongue. “I want you so much,” she breathed against his mouth, tilting her hips up.

I want more.

He lifted his weight off her.

Racy thoughts of him sliding and sinking inside her, deep and full, punctuated by the real-time yank of his belt and rasp of his zipper somewhere in the darkness beside her bed had her jumping up in an impromptu competition to dress the floor with her clothes, too. She’d wiggled out of her boots and jeans when she glimpsed him stealing around behind the sofa bed. “What’re you doing?”

With a soft whooshing sound, the curtains parted, and the glow of streetlights shone across the room in pale, revealing stripes.

“Oh, I see.” She grinned, unable to take her eyes off his frame—lip-smackingly nude except for his sexy silk boxers in black. “Going camping?”

“Lot of tent raising in recent weeks, and all because of you,” he mused. He moved toward her and lifted a hand as if to caress her face, but then stopped. “Maybe that’s why.”

“Why what?”

He scrubbed his jaw and sank onto the bed. “There’s something important I have to tell you.”

Uh, no. He didn’t. She just wanted this moment. “Are you married? Living with someone?”

“No!”

She sank onto the bed beside him. “Gay?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I were.”

“Then whatever it is can wait. I’ve wanted you for three long weeks, too, and I refuse to wait any longer.” She ran a hand along his bare thigh.

“You’re too much, Lexie Bloom.” Turning toward her, he laughed softly and pushed her gently onto her back.

Oomph—Oh. My.

She bit back a moan of pleasure when he slid up and over her,