Текст книги "From the Wreckage"

Автор книги: Melissa Collins

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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

“You’re getting awfully dolled up for a few drinks at Smoke,” Ian offers his unsolicited opinion as I roll my sleeve up, cuffing it tightly on my forearm.

Pushing the other sleeve up and cuffing it the same as the other, I tell Ian, “I’m not going to Smoke with you. You’re going to have to grind up against all those poor helpless women at the bar all by yourself.” Arching his brows, he pretends to be insulted, but there’s something there suggesting my words hit a little too close to home.

Shrugging, he laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, what a rough life I have.” Dropping to the bench separating the two rows of lockers at the firehouse, Ian swipes a towel over his face. Looking up at me with his post-workout sweat-covered face, he asks, “So if you’re not getting all dressed up for me–” His face lights up as he puts it all together. “Hot redhead? You know, you never did thank me for serving her up to you after the ball game. How was she? Is she a firecracker in bed?”

Choosing to deflect his comments, I simply say, “Wouldn’t you just love to know?”

Of course he doesn’t drop it. Carrying on, he continues, “Well, give me the details, asshole. She wild or tame? Hardwoods or drapes?”

Losing the battle with my calm, I snap. “You’re a shit, you know that? Shut your fucking mouth about her and what she does in bed. It’s none of your business.” Wadding up a towel, I toss it in his face. “And her name is Grace and you’d actually sound like a human being if you addressed her by it. All women for that matter. I’m sure if they knew you called them ‘dancing like a stripper,’ or ‘easy target,’ they’d slap you more often than they already do.” Shockingly, my words seem to reach him a little. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.” Slamming my locker closed, I grab my bag from the floor. “I have a date with a woman who I’m not even the tiniest bit embarrassed to be seen with in the light of day.”

“You wound me, Andrews.” Ian’s words fall on my back as I walk out of the room.

Turning back to face him, I sling my bag over my shoulder. Leaning against the door frame, I say, “Just think about it. You spend all this energy on the chase, all for what? To go home alone after a few hours of sex with some girl you’ll never see again.”

“You’re one to talk.” He throws his words at me with more than a touch of anger. “Since when are you the morality police? How many nights did you go home alone after a few hours with Kelsey? And how many girls were there before Kelsey? Too many to mention and many of them you wouldn’t even have given the opportunity at a repeat performance.”

“You’re right,” I admit, more than a little ashamed of my past. “That doesn’t mean a person can’t change. I guess maybe I’ve just found my motivation.”

“So now what? After like a month, at the most, you’re ready to get married and have kids. With some chick you knew from when you were ten. Talk about someone who has their priorities all fucked up.”

“No one said anything about getting married and having kids, but is it really that horrible of me to want more than getting drunk and finding random women? Is it so horrible that I’d rather have a meaningful relationship?” Shaking my head, I add, “You’re getting awfully ruffled up over this. Hitting a little close to the heart of the matter?”

“Shut the fuck up.” He waves away my words. “Get out of here and have fun on your date.” With that, I walk out of the locker area, wondering when my best friend will grow up. The entire exchange was awkwardly tense, but there was so much truth in what I was trying to tell him. He’s a decent enough guy, but for whatever reason he has, he sells himself short. Tells himself that settling down is for pussies. And maybe that was something I told myself a long time ago, but it rings less true now.

Needless to say, the rest of the guys whistle and make cat calls as I walk out of the station. It’s rare that any of us ever leave here in more than our uniform or jeans and a T-shirt. Apparently seeing me in black dress pants, leather shoes, and a blue button-down dress shirt is the same thing as witnessing Swamp Thing trudge through the place. They actually lean out the door of the kitchen, asking me a million questions as I load my bag into the trunk of my car. None of them hear the answers they want.

Leaving the station, I walk up West 10^th Street, turning on Greenwich Avenue. Grace’s apartment is less than a ten minute walk from the station. The sun’s rays slice through the towering skyscrapers, painting the streets of lower Manhattan in specks of gold and orange. Turning down West 13^th, I’m a few buildings away from Grace. After buzzing her apartment, I jam my hands in my pockets, rocking on my heels.

“Hello,” Jade calls into the line.

“Hey, Jade. It’s David. Is Grace there?”

“Oh, hey. Yeah, come on up.” Her voice is cut off by the sound of the door being buzzed open.

Jade is waiting at the door for me when I arrive. “I let her know you were here, but that only made her more flustered.”

Laughing, I know exactly what she means. Recalling how Grace rambled on and on as excitement flowed through her veins as she prepared her lesson makes me smile. “Should I go in there?”

Jade shakes her head just short of furiously. “Not if you want to come out alive. She takes forever to get ready on a normal day. And tonight–” Realizing she may be giving away too much about how Grace is feeling about our date, she cuts herself short, changing directions. “Can I get you something to drink?”

“I’ll take a bottle of water if you have one.” She nods, excusing herself into the kitchen. Taking her exit as my cue, I walk down the hall to Grace’s room.

Sounds of her huffing and puffing filter into the hall. When I tap on her door, the noises stop. “Not yet,” she whines. “I need a few more minutes.”

“It’s me, Gracie.” Leaning against the wall, I wait for her response, but all I catch is a few groans of displeasure, and things being tossed all around. “Can I come in?”

“No,” she exclaims. Then all I hear are hard footsteps moving toward the door. “You definitely cannot come in here.”

“Are you naked?” I snicker.

Even if she isn’t, I’m thinking of her naked. Knowing exactly how she looks makes the image that much more vivid, beautiful, and real.

Pretending to be offended, she nearly shouts, “No. Now go away.”

“Nope, I’m coming in. Otherwise at this rate, we’ll never leave.” Much to my surprise, the door opens before I have to push my way in. “Holy fuck!” Shock washes over me, stopping me dead in my tracks.

“I know. I’m a mess. This dress doesn’t fit right. I bet it’s not fancy enough. Hell, I don’t even know where we’re going, but based on how you look. Oh, God, I’m in way over my head. Maybe we should just stay home. Order some takeout and watch Netflix.” Her rambling pulls my attention away from the disaster area that is her bedroom.

Pulling her hand into mine, I step in front of her. “First of all, you look amazing. And yes, this dress is perfect for where we’re going. A burlap sack would work because you’d be wearing it.” Letting my eyes roam over her body, I have no clue why she thought she looked anything less than spectacular. The navy blue dress hugs every inch of her luscious body and shows the perfect amount of skin. The top has thin straps and her arms are bare. Even from across the room, my fingers itch to touch her.

“Oh.” She gulps down her shock at my acceptance of her outfit. “And second?”

“Second of all.” I pause, laughing and running a hand through my hair. “The ‘holy fuck’ was for your room. It’s a pigsty.” Stepping toward her, I grin.

“Oh, really?” She jabs me in my chest, some of the nervousness about her dress gone. “You’re one to talk Mr. If It’s Decorative I Don’t Need It. And if I remember correctly, I dusted about an inch off your furniture last week.”

“You did, but this. Grace, this–” Spinning around, I take in the full circle of her room. There are clothes on every surface imaginable. Her bed looks like it hasn’t been made in months, if ever. Books are overflowing from the four bookcases lining the wall, spilling out into small piles on the floor. And on the desk, it looks like there’s at least two days’ worth of dirty dishes piled up next to the computer. “This looks like a teenage boy lives here. Are you hiding a seventeen-year-old boy in your closet?” Keeping the mood light, I step over to the closet and pretend to peek inside.

“And if I am?” she jokes, arching a brow at me.

“If you are . . .” I grin again, looking down at her. Looping my arms around her waist, I pull her against me and lift her a few inches from the floor. Her arms tighten around my neck and her mouth forms a little “o” at the surprise of being lifted. “Then he’s about to get a lesson in sex ed.” Her pupils widen at my words, the black almost swallowing the baby blue. It’s a soft kiss, one where I can feel every groove and line of her tender lips. One that calls to the most basic level of human connection. Slowly and sensually, our tongues glide together. Hot and wet, it’s pure electric, a slow build of hot pulses that build and build and build until . . .

“Whoa!” Jade’s shocked voice calls from the doorway. “Well, don’t stop.” Crossing her arms over her chest, she leans against the doorframe. “Go on. That was sinful.”

Resting my forehead against Grace’s, I slowly lower her to the ground, letting her feel my reaction to our kiss on the way down. “I guess I forgot to close the door.” I laugh, kissing her one last time on the tip of her nose.

“Yeah, you did.” She laughs with me, unraveling her arms from my neck.

“Okay, okay. Enough of this lovey dovey stuff. Let me get my girl all ready. You,”—Jade points a finger at me—“your water is out on the table. Sit and wait.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Saluting her on the way out, I add, “Our reservations are at eight-thirty, so don’t take too long.”

By the time I finish my bottle of water, Grace is stepping into the living room. If I thought she looked beautiful before, now she’s . . .”My God, you look stunning.” Never having been one to appreciate the lacquered look some women go for, I’m knocked almost breathless by the golden and peach look Grace has going on. There’s nothing about her appearance that isn’t 100 percent Grace. Sparkling and shimmering, the only competition she’ll have tonight is the night sky.

Lacing her fingers with mine, she tips her head to the side where Jade is perched, watching us. “Let’s get out of here, before Miss Nosey Pants over there gets another show.”

“You’re no fun.” Jade pouts. “But go.” She shoos us to the door. “I have my own hot date to get ready for.”

When we step out into the hallway, I press Grace against the wall. Locking her body against mine, I run my nose along the length of her neck, lightly kissing her along the way. My lips move across her collarbone and I mutter, “I’ve wanted to kiss you here.” I nip lightly at the hollow of her neck, right above the line of her cleavage, “Since I first walked into your room.”

Muffled words filter out into the hall. “I can still see you.”

Burying her face against my chest, Grace laughs, mumbling, “Jade.”

And with that, we leave the building. The wait will make licking every inch of her skin that much more delectable. At least that’s the lie I tell myself as I readjust myself before stepping out onto the sidewalk.

“So where are we going?” She twines our fingers together as we walk down the street.

“It’s a surprise,” I answer, squeezing her small, warm hand in mine. “But if you’re up for it, I’d like to walk.”

“A stroll through the city with this piece of man candy on my arm.” She looks up at me, her eyes bright and shining, her smile full and warm. “I can’t think of anything better.”

I’ve always enjoyed walking through the streets of Manhattan, basking in the lively feel of pretty much everything. But doing it with Grace’s hand in mine, listening to her jabber on about her day, that brings it all to life in a completely different way. “So the school called,” she says out of nowhere.

We haven’t talked about her new job since I dropped her off at the train station. On her words, more than a touch of tension fills our bubble of space. “Oh, yeah,” I answer tentatively. “Was it a good call or a bad call?”

“Good,” she says excitedly. “I actually met with the superintendent yesterday afternoon.” Looking up at me, she’s gauging my reaction. Her words stop me in my tracks, not because I’m upset she didn’t call, but because I can’t wait to hear how it went.

There’s a small coffee shop a few feet in front of us. Walking us over to a table in their outside seating area, I pull out a chair for her, prompting her to sit. “I’m sorry,” she admits quietly. “I overreacted with you calling in a favor to get me the interview. And it was childish of me to be all shitty about it.” Taking a deep breath, she covers my hands with hers. “I never said thank you and that was so very wrong of me. So thank you.”

“You know this isn’t going to be the first time I help you out. I’ve never been in one before, but I think this is how relationships work. I help you. You help me. It’s some crazy shit like that,” I joke. “But seriously.” I use the change in tone to lace our fingers together, staring deep into her eyes. “It’s okay that you were upset with me. Maybe I did overstep my boundaries. I was just doing what I thought was best for you.”

“You’re too good. I flip out on you and here you are being the sensible one.” Pulling our hands up to her soft lips, she kisses my knuckle, a playful glimmer in her eyes. “I’ll make it up to you. I promise,” she mutters, a seductive lilt to her words.

“Sounds like a plan. This whole you making it up to me.” I try my best for a sexy grin, but when she calls me a dork, I guess I fail. “Sure am, but now I’m your dork.” When she smiles at me, I can tell she likes the sound of that. Standing from the table, I pull her next to me. “Let’s go. If we don’t hurry, we’ll miss it.”

“Miss what?”

“There’s no fun in telling you.” I grin again, this time looking slightly less like a dork.

On the rest of the walk to our destination, she tells me about how she’ll be starting a summer curriculum writing project. She’ll be paired up with two senior English teachers and a team of social studies teachers as they revamp the interdisciplinary reading and writing program. Her enthusiasm is contagious and I couldn’t be prouder of her.

“So will you be taking the train out there every day?”

“Actually, I think it’ll be easier if I move,” she explains. “I mean, it’s well over an hour-long commute on a good day. Jade and I talked about it yesterday after the second interview. It just doesn’t make sense.”

“Look at you! A new job, new apartment, and I’m assuming a new car, too. I mean unless you plan on living in the basement of the school, but I’m pretty sure they frown on that.” We laugh as our joined hands swing between us.

“I know. It’s crazy how quickly everything is changing. But they’re good changes. I’m really excited about it all. My parents are actually going to come and help me find a car and do a day of apartment hunting with me.”

Part of me is wounded that she didn’t think to ask me, but at the same time, given my level of interference last time, I can understand why.

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out.”

Looking up at me with a hint of shyness in her deep blue eyes, she asks, “Would you come with us?” She worries her lip, waiting on me to answer. “I told them about you . . . I mean about us and they were really excited to see you. Plus, you know so much more about the area than I do. I know I chewed you out for helping before, but I would really love it–” she rambles, cutting herself off when she sees the laughter lighting up my face.

“You’re kind of cute when you ramble like that.”

Offended, she gasps, “I was not rambling.”

“Yes, you were.” I laugh past the matter-of-fact words. “And yes, I’d love to help. It’ll be nice to see your parents after all these years.”

Stretching up on her toes, she presses a soft kiss to my cheek. “You’re perfect. Thank you.”

“So are you,” I whisper, looping my arms around her waist. “And so is this.” Our lips come together in a moment of emotion unlike any I’ve ever felt. For some reason, this simple kiss means more than I can put to words—as if it’s a kiss promising something unnamable and intangible. Something fleeting yet permanent. Something alive and breathing right here between us.

As our lips move apart, I turn us around to show her where we are. And my timing couldn’t have worked out any better, either. “It’s beautiful. Breathtaking, actually,” she gasps, covering her mouth with her hand.

And it is. The 9/11 Memorial is one of the most awe-inspiring locations in New York. There’s a mystical tranquility surrounding the place, a spiritual reverence hovering right at the surface. “I wanted to bring you here because it’s so important to me.” With the sun setting in the early evening sky, the entire location is almost glowing. Holding her hand, we walk into the grounds. “These lives”—moving my hand along the wall on which the victims’ names are engraved—“were taken far too soon. I was in middle school when it happened and I remember my teachers panicking. We had no clue what was going on, but we knew it was something big. All I remember was my dad picking me up from school early. He had tears in his eyes as he signed me out and by that point, I’d heard enough to know that we’d been attacked.”

Offering me her wordless support, she squeezes my hand as we look into the tranquility pool. The sound of the water cascading over the edges drowns out the surrounding noise of the city. “In the weeks and months that followed, I pieced together most of what happened. Well, as much as a thirteen-year-old could have. It really affected me.” Raking a hand through my hair, I stare out across the water, watching the surface shimmer and sparkle as it reflects the lights of the surrounding memorial.

“It affected all of us.” Gazing up at me, there are tears in her eyes.

“Seven guys from my squad died that day. Seeing their names and faces on the walls of my station every day . . .” Fighting hard, I swallow back the emotion rising in my chest. “It gives me a purpose, you know? Like I’m living their legacy. I know this probably all sounds really cheesy.” I huff, a little embarrassed by my show of emotions. “But you said you wanted to get to know me and I couldn’t think of a better place to bring you to show you who I really am. This,”—swiping my arm to the side, I put the memorial on display before dropping my arm on her shoulder—“these people, this city, it’s more than just a job. It’s been in my blood since the night I saved you. And being a part of something bigger than myself, it’s all I know. So it was natural for me to show you the most important part of who I am.”

“David . . . I . . .” Words fail her, the sound of the water filling the silence.

“I know it’s not the most romantic thing ever. And it’s probably a really crappy first date idea, but–”

“It’s the best first date I’ve ever had. Thank you for giving me this part of you.” Resting her head on my shoulder, we let the water say what we can’t. “I’ll never forget this night, ever.”

And her words, so simple and so true are the last either of us speaks before leaving for dinner half an hour later.

“Do you, um, want to come up?” Fidgeting with the belt of my dress, a flutter of excitement swarms low in my belly. David hasn’t been able to keep his hands off me all night. From the moment we arrived at the memorial, through dinner, and then even on the walk back to my apartment. A light touch on my shoulder, a gentle brush against my thigh, a possessive hand on my lower back. It’s done nothing but set my skin on fire, his fingers constantly fanning the flames.

Torn, he steps back from me, digging his hands deep into his back pockets. “No. I can’t.” His denial stings, lighting up all the places he’s touched me with his refusal.

Determined not to seem upset, I nod. “Okay. Then I guess I’ll talk to you soon.” Turning away from him, I take a deep breath and blow away my frustration. The only thought racing through my brain is he has somewhere else to be. There’s no way he’s pitying me, but I won’t lie and say his refusal doesn’t sting.

With my key in the door, I feel his body looming behind me. His breathing is labored and when I spin back to look at him, his face is dark and conflicted somehow. “Gracie,” he nearly growls my name. His hand dives into my hair, wrapping around the nape of my neck. Angling my face up to his, he strokes my neck with his thumb. Surely he feels my pulse beating a wild and frantic pace there. “I want to. My god, I want to so fucking bad,” he grounds out his words. His jaw is clenched so tightly, his face doesn’t look like his own. “But–”

“But what?” I whimper, unable to bear the feel of his skin on mine knowing he isn’t willing to take it further.

He looks up into the night sky, letting out a deep and controlled breath as if it will somehow give him some semblance of strength. When he looks back into my eyes, there’s tension there. Clearly wavering, his chest rises and falls with his deep and almost annoyed breaths. Dropping a hand to his hard, warm chest, I hope to calm him some, but all it does is make his breath deeper, shuddery and irregular. “If I go up there, I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. It took all my strength tonight not to pull you into an alley and push you up against a wall just so I could feel your body against mine, so I could take what I’ve wanted all night. Hell, what I’ve wanted since I first saw you. God how I wanted to push your skirt up and have you wrap your legs around my waist just so I could finally feel how hot and tight you are.” His lips move so close to my ear it’s impossible not to break out in a river of goose bumps.

“What stopped you?” My words are uneven, breathless. If his touches turned me on, his words morphed me into a boneless heap of desire.

“You deserve better,” he states, his words weighed with simplicity and truth. “When you’re ready, you’ll get my time, my attention, my tenderness. Not a quick fuck in an alley.”

Confused, I stare at him with furrowed brows. “Ready? But I’m asking you up now. What makes you think I’m not ready?”

“The other night–”

“That was before. It was different. I can’t explain it.” Pushing down my frustration for letting my insecurities get in our way, I take a deep breath. “I never should have let what he said get in the way of how I feel about being with you. And I’m doing that tonight.” Leaning into him, I flex both hands on his chest. Moving my lips against the hollow of his neck, I beg, “Please. I’m ready now. I promise.”

His pulse rushes wildly under my kisses as his hands grip me so tightly it’s almost too much to bear. “Grace,” he grits out, making me look up at him through my lashes. “You’re too goddamn sexy to refuse.” He gives in, brushing my hair out of my eyes before tucking it behind my ear. “And fuck do I want you.” Though his words say one thing, he remains glued to the spot and he still looks torn over the whole thing.

“We’re on the same page then.” Smiling up at him, I know what will push him over the edge. “Besides, if you don’t come in there with me, I have a hot pink vibrator that won’t argue with me about it.” Arching a brow, I toss that out there, waiting to see what he has to say about it.

His fingers dig into my hips and his eyes widen. Without saying a word, he trails his fingers down my arm and pulls the keys out of my hand. Reaching around me, he unlocks the door, capturing me between it and him. Frozen on the spot, I stand there, giddy that I won him over, as he drops my keys back into my hand.

My excitement doesn’t vanish as we walk through the small entryway. When the elevator doors open, we step inside, the atmosphere sizzling and crackling around us. Taking on a life of its own, the air in the small space swirls around us, pulling us closer together until there’s no more than an inch between us. Electricity jolts to life as his arm brushes against mine. As the doors close, he steps in front of me, locking me between his body and the wall. When his leg slides between mine, I can barely breathe. “You look more than beautiful tonight,” he mutters, pressing his lips to my neck and dancing his fingers up my outer thigh. Stopping just shy of actually pushing my skirt up, he lets go of the flowy edges of the dress and moves his hands up my sides. Even over the thin material, I can feel the rough pads of his fingers, making me shiver in anticipation of what’s to come.

“I always fantasized about this, you know?” I groan into his neck, unable to control my need for him. “Being taken in an elevator. Being needed like this. So much that waiting until we get into my apartment is just too long.”

“Grace,” he growls, nipping at my neck. Pushing against my body even harder, I can feel his need for me against my belly. With my fingers trailing down his tight stomach, I grow more daring. Inches away from taking what I want, I stop in my tracks as the door slides open.

“Oh my. Well, I never.” Mrs. Corado clutches at her pearls, gasping in shock as she steps in the elevator. Our old lady neighbor is the equivalent of the creepy old man in Friends. The one who would always bang on the ceiling, yelling at the crew that they were making too much noise. She’s pretty much the same. Except anytime she sees me or Jade, she has to make some comment about not being decent, showing too much skin, or always having men to our apartment. I’m sure if you asked her, she’d tell you we run a brothel or something similar.

Keeping his body in front of mine, he whispers in my ear, “She’s just jealous.”

Burying my face in his shoulder, I laugh, agreeing with him. I mean who wouldn’t want to be in my position—a hot, sweet man wedged in between her thighs, threatening to take her right here and now if it wasn’t for the shocked old lady gasping for air.

Yeah, I’d say it’s pretty amazing to be me.

Adjusting himself, he steps to the side and laces his fingers through mine. Excusing us as we walk past her, David puts his hand on the small of my back. As I look back at her over my shoulder, it’s not lost on me that she eyes his hand hungrily. Wiggling my fingers in her direction, I say, “I hope you have a good night, Mrs. Corado. I know I will.” I can’t hold back the laugh bursting from my mouth as her eyes widen and she gasps one last time when the doors close.

Standing at my door, my laughter subsides as David’s eyes darken. “Grace,” he intones. There’s a challenge and a command wrapping around my name. “The door.” Tipping his chin behind me, he adds, “Now.”

With nervous fingers, I open the door, somehow managing not to drop my keys on the floor. Once we’re over the threshold, he scans the entryway. “Jade out?”

Unable to form an intelligible word, I nod. And with that, his body language changes once again. Rigid, yet not tense, his muscles bunch under his shirt. Mesmerized, I watch as he unrolls the cuff of his sleeves. Deft fingers work at the buttons of his shirt, revealing miles of tan skin. My fingers itch to graze through the dark hair dusting his chest and diving into a line beneath his waistband.

“You’re awfully quiet,” he snickers, stepping even closer to me. “But I see it in your eyes, just like you see it in mine.”

“What’s that?” I manage. Even the two simple words take a huge amount of effort on my part.

“Desire.” He steps closer still. “Need.” One more step. “Hunger.” Then his hands are on me, his fingers trailing languid circles on my shoulders and down my exposed arms.

Tucking his finger under the spaghetti strap of my dress, he locks his eyes with mine. Nodding my ascent, I give him the permission he’s seeking. The thin straps fall down my arms and he helps them glide over my elbows. Without much structure to hold it up, the dress floats to the ground, effortlessly falling from my body. The navy blue fabric pools at my feet. Remarkably, the need to cover myself up isn’t there. It’s replaced by the force locking David and I together.

His eyes roam over my body, from head to toe and back again. Standing there in a black lace bra and panties, I feel empowered by his inability to speak. A staggered breath puffs from his mouth before he grinds out, “My God.”

Stepping out of my shoes, I kick them to the side. “You’re definitely overdressed.” My fingers run over his chest and then down his stomach, following that sexy-as-fuck trail of hair. “Maybe we can change that?” I challenge, working my fingers at the buckle of his belt. His hands cover mine, but I push them away. “Let me.”

The thick column of his neck shifts as he swallows hard. Dropping his hands to the side, he keeps his eyes focused on mine. His belt lands on the floor in a loud thud, echoing the sound of the blood pounding in my ears. Following suit, he kicks his shoes and socks to the pile next to us.

Feeling brave, I work at the zipper of his pants, letting my fingers graze ever so slightly against his rock hard length pushing against the fabric. “Even that right there. It drives me crazy.” His words come out thick and gravelly, dripping with need.

“This?” I ask coyly, letting my finger glide over him once more.

“You know damn well what I mean. And yes, if you keep doing that, I can’t make any promises about taking things slowly.” Needing to see more of him, I push his pants down past his hips and he shoves them down the ground before kicking them to the side. Wrapping his hand around my wrist, he pulls it away from his body, obviously in need of a little bit of space. That much is clear by the ever-growing damp spot on his boxers.

Breaking free from his grip, I run my hands up his chest, circling the flat disc of his nipples with my thumbs. “What if I don’t want it slow?” I tease, pushing his shirt from his shoulders. “What if I want you to want me so much you have no choice but to lose control?” Tossing his shirt to the pile of clothes, I scratch my nails along his arms, watching as thin red lines appear in their wake.