Work In Progress (Red Lipstick Coalition #3) - Staci Hart Page 0,114

reached in, fishing out the contents.

She reached in too, her hand reappearing with a tube of lube. “We already have lube,” she said on a chuckle.

“I know, but this is more…it’s just better,” I hedged, flustered.

Her eyes bugged when she looked in, and this time, she held the tube in her hand. “Tommy…”

My brows drew together as I leaned over to see which one she’d picked up.

She turned it so I could see. “Please tell me this doesn’t say anal lube.”

An unbidden laugh bubbled out of me. “No, no, no,” I assured her as I took it. “It’s thicker, and it has a numbing agent in it. Don’t worry, Melia. I’m not touching your ass.”

She sighed, relaxing.

“Yet,” I added.

She rolled her eyes, swatting my arm.

“Anyway, there’s some other stuff here. Ultra-thin condoms. Some stimulators, though I don’t know if that will really help you. I figured I’d see what you wanted to use.”

“Tommy,” she said with a teasing smile, “did you make me a deflowering box?”

I rubbed the back of my neck. “I mean, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of creepy.”

She laughed. “I don’t think it’s creepy at all. Look at all this,” she said, picking up the tube of anal lube. “You got all of this because you were worried about me. That is the most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me.”

“Well, I love you,” I explained.

“I love you, too,” she echoed, reaching for my face. “You’re more worried than you are excited, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know if I’d say that,” I admitted with a smile, angling for her lips.

“I trust you,” she said. “Now, kiss me,” she commanded.

And I did as she’d bidden.

She threaded her arms around my neck, pulled me into her, onto her, the box forgotten.

My plans to take things slow were overridden by Amelia, who apparently did not want to take her time. Her hands skated down my chest, first unbuttoning my vest, which I shucked and tossed blindly in the direction of the floor. Then her delicate fingers grabbed my shirt and tugged with unladylike gusto, unfurling my shirttails and unfastening the buttons of my shirt faster than I could have. With her enthusiasm, I was surprised she didn’t just tear it open, flinging buttons all over the room.

And her enthusiasm fueled my own, although I took my time despite her rush, unbuttoning her shirt, untying the knot, slipping the fabric over her pale shoulders. Our shoes were kicked off, clumsily thunking against the ground. Before I even thought to take off her bra, my torso was naked, and her hand was snaking into my pants.

Her fingertips grazed my aching cock, and I hissed into her mouth, taking her wrists in my fist. I twisted us, pinning her into the bed with my body, holding her hands over her head with one of mine.

I broke the kiss and looked down at her, panting. “We’ve got all night, Melia.”

Her hips rolled against mine. “I’ve waited all this time. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“I know,” I said against her lips. “And you won’t. Trust me,” I breathed.

“I do,” she whispered.

And with that surrender, I kissed her.

Long and slow, I kissed her. Hot and deep, I kissed her. I kissed her until she was soft underneath me, her urgency gone, her body supple.

Only then did I move.

First, my hands, fingertips tasting her long neck, the ridge of her collarbone, the curve of her breast. Then, my lips, tasting every space my fingers had touched, spending a long, luxurious moment sampling her skin as my hands relieved her of her bra.

Her skin was snowy white, the tips brushed in pale pink. Everything about her was delicate, calling for the gentlest touch, the softest kiss. And I paid my homage to her body. Traced the swell. Closed my lips over the peaked tip. Sighed and hummed my appreciation as her arms cradled me to her, her hands slipping into my hair.

Down my hands moved, fingers unfastening her pants, sliding them off her hips and away, taking her panties with them.

For a moment, I did nothing but drink in the sight of her in the quiet light of her room. Her flaxen hair fanned out, framing her blushing face. Her eyes, silvery blue, pupils wide and lids low, drunk with lust, heavy with love. The quick rise and fall of her breasts. The curve of her waist and hips, the angle of her legs, knees together, turned to the side where I’d left