“You’re beautiful,” he said.
Her breath huffed out, and she felt fragile, too delicate. She couldn’t hide the quaking now. The cool air brushed against her hot, wet skin, making it infinitely more sensitive.
“Can you, um...” She swallowed. “Take off your shirt or something? Maybe even out the playing field?”
She glanced down as he pulled his shirt over his head. Just a second to stare at his beautiful body before she realized she should have said his pants. They would come off soon enough now, though. Faced with the prospect of their imminent joining, her heart pounded madly.
“Is that better?”
She nodded.
“Is this too much?”
She should have said red light. She was overwhelmed. But she didn’t want this to end yet. It was terrifyingly addicting, and as vulnerable as she felt, no one had ever wanted to look at her the way Mike was now.
“The suspense is killing me,” she admitted.
The low rumble of his laugh did nothing to set her at ease.
“Can I kiss you?”
“Yes.”
But his lips didn’t find her mouth. They pressed to the center of her thighs— that wet aching place that she’d kept hidden from anyone but herself for a long time. She arched off the step, feeling like he’d shocked her with a live wire.
“Okay,” he said. “All right.”
“S-sorry.”
“No,” he said. “Not with me.”
She forced a steadying breath, now aware that her knees were pressed together.
“Do you like doing that?” she asked after a moment.
“Yes,” he answered.
She could feel herself frown, even though she knew he wouldn’t lie.
His hands were stroking the outsides of her thighs, gentle tracks up and down.
“Amy, has anyone ever kissed you there before?”
She pulled herself up on her elbows, but focused on his chest, not his eyes.
“A couples times. A long time ago.”
He pulled her legs straight, so that her feet were resting on his thighs. He still kneeled on the bottom step, and she wondered how that could possibly be comfortable for him, though he didn’t seem to mind.
“Do you think you’d like it if I did it?”
The fantasies she’d already had raced through her head. “Yes, I...” She stopped herself.
“You what?” he prompted.
Shit.
“I sometimes think about what it would be like,” she said. “With you.”
Before she could be embarrassed again, he said, “I think about that, too. More often than sometimes.”
She took a deep breath, and parted her knees, just an inch, then two. Now her gaze found his and stuck; she wanted to see if there was indeed truth in his reaction. She couldn’t bear it if there wasn’t.
What she saw was desire. Dark, burning need, that kindled fast and charged through her own system.
He lifted his shirt, and twisted it into a tight rope, and then pressed the fabric between her legs perpendicular to the ground. The pressure felt good, and she sighed with relief as he began to inch it up and down. The feel of the thin cotton wasn’t as soft as his lips or even his fingers would have been, and after a while her body had relaxed enough that her back molded against the stairs, and her head rested on a higher step.
He changed position, and soon she felt a knot of fabric against the top of her slit, pressing down on that tender bundle of nerves while his fingers brushed over her lips. One eased up and down, tracing the folds of her skin, gliding easily from her own desire.
She could feel her body winding up. The tightness in her spine and the burning in her belly. It was good. It was the rightest thing in the world.
“Mike.” Her eyes closed tightly, lost to the sudden sensations rocketing through her. His fingers were moving again, tracing the lines of her body, circling her entrance. Her thighs were flexed and shaking.
“Breathe,” he whispered. “Tell me what feels good.”
One finger slid just a little inside. Her back arched.
“Oh,” she cried. And he was so still she thought she would die. “Don’t stop.”
His finger moved up, and then down, and when he reached her tender opening, he pushed in just a tiny bit more. She shifted, trying to get closer to him, trying to take more of him.
“That,” she whispered, made brave by his patience. “When you do that it makes me crazy.”
He pushed in deeply, then pulled out, working her with a slow, torturous rhythm. She groaned, muscles gripping him, so focused by this intimate touch that she could feel nothing else.
He turned his wrist and she gave a short cry. In and out. Slow, wet thrusts. He gradually moved deeper, until his knuckles grazed her outer lips and she thought she would shatter. He was gentle as he touched her, drawing her to the edge but not letting her fall, and keeping that consistent pressure on her clit the entire time.
“How do I do it in your fantasy?” he said softly as her spine began to bow.
Her breath came in short bursts. Her eyes were closed tightly. One hand gripped her own hair, needing something to hold onto. The other crossed over her chest.
“I don’t know,” she said. “You just...you like it...”
He added a second finger and she gave a weak shout. She felt unbearably full. And then as the seconds passed, perfectly full, like her body had been waiting for his to seal the void. She was close, but the peak was just out of reach. What was he doing to her? Just a little faster. Just a little deeper. She couldn’t say the words, but that’s what she wanted.
“I’m so hard right now,” he said, voice hoarse.
Her eyes shot open. She shoved up to see for herself. He lifted his elbow to show her the bulge in his pants.
“Let me see,” she said, need heightened by the rawness in her own voice.
He released the shirt, still pressed against her, and she ached with the sudden lack of pressure there. She hadn’t known what purpose it served until he’d taken it away, but now her whole body felt unanchored, like it might spin apart at any second.
Quickly, he undid the button on his fly and unzipped his pants. Reaching inside, he released his cock from his boxers. Her mouth fell open. He was thick, his head blushing dark red, while the rest was that beautiful shade of brown. She couldn’t get a clear view from this position, but she imagined it inside her and felt a new jolt of need. She wanted to take him. All of him. Soon.
He didn’t take his fingers away from her body, and with his other hand on his cock, he leaned down, and gave her an open mouth kiss, right between her legs.
“Oh god,” she said. She’d never seen anything as erotic in her entire life.
Then his eyes closed and a look of bliss took over his face, and she thought she might actually have died and gone to heaven.
“Tell me,” he said, voice rumbling against her. “Tell me what you like.”
She wasn’t sure how she did it, but somehow she answered, higher, higher, right there, wait, no, right there. And he followed what she said, without any strangeness or awkwardness. Taking her direction didn’t upset him. What she wanted, he wanted. Those things were the same.
His fingers nestled deep, he tickled her inside while his tongue delved further into her body. The softness of him was too much, and she arched closer and cried his name, surging with a pleasure that ripped out from her center in all directions.
“You taste so good,” he muttered tightly. “Like honey. Like summer. Damn, Amy.”
Reeling, he began to thrust harder with his hand, helping her ride it out, only it didn’t make things easier. His tongue caressed her, lapped at her, sucked on her most tender places. The wet sounds pushed her higher, adding to every sensation, until there was nothing but the fire raging through her.
Before she crashed, she opened her eyes, and saw him stroking himself. Long, hard pulls with a tight fist, and she gripped her own hands together and imagi
ned it was her touching him like that. And when she could take no more, he shuddered too. His shoulders tensed, and he rested his head on her thigh while he muttered a curse that made her blush, even now.
“Okay,” she said between breaths. “We could do that again.”
Chapter Nineteen
“Shit!” Amy jumped up from the stairs, which actually was more rolling off to the side and then forcing all her loose muscles to work in concert as she scrambled up. “Work. I have a three o’clock. What time is it?” She checked the clock on her phone—quarter to three. “Shit.” She grabbed her boots and jerked them on.
“Call in,” Mike told her, now seated on the second step. The crackling sound of his zipper pulling up brought a twinge of regret. His shirt lay on the step beside them, a crumpled, wet mess that somehow made her blush more than the still obvious bulge in his pants.
Satisfied as she was, she almost couldn’t believe he still hadn’t had sex with her. The man had the dedication of a monk.
“I wish,” she said, then slapped a hand on her forehead. “Shit, shit, shit. I forgot I told Derrick I’d take a box to the post office for him.”
“That dirty mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble.”
She winced, but his smirk was that of a predator, ready to pounce. A small, needy shiver worked through her.
“I do have a naughty mouth,” she said, teasing him more than she’d intended.
He rose. “You’re a naughty girl.”
She found herself backing up with each step he took closer, not as a means of escape, but of drawing him near. Soon her back bumped against the wall, and his body nestled against hers. His bare chest was warm and smooth beneath her open hands, and her nails lightly scored his skin as she felt her way over his pecs.
He hissed. His hips trapped hers against the wall, and she reveled in the feel of his cock on her belly.
“What happens to naughty girls?” she whispered, looking up at him through her lashes. She felt light, carefree. She was flirting. And it was driving Mike crazy.
“Call in and you’ll see.”
Her high crashed. Work. She groaned, and not from pleasure.
“I can’t,” she said. “I told Derrick I’d be back.”
“You better go then.” He didn’t move. His lion eyes dared her to stay and see what he would do to her, and right then, she wanted nothing more in the entire world than to find out.
“Is it always like this with you?” she asked, surprised at the question that fell from her own lips.
His hands worked their way down the fronts of her suspenders, over her breasts, and played with the latches that connected to her skirt.
“How do you mean?” he asked.
“I can’t get enough,” she said quietly, the energy changing between them from heated to something more fragile. “You’re probably used to women...” Falling in love with you. She cleared her throat, not ready to admit that even to herself quite yet. “Needing a Mike fix every two hours.”
A scowl passed over his face, but disappeared just as quickly as it had come.
“This is different.”
Her heart fluttered at the prospect that she was special. But then, she’d known that the first time he’d touched her.
She inhaled, and had to force her hands to still on his chest. It was time to leave. Derrick liked her, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t an employee and there weren’t dozens of stylists vying for her spot at the salon.
“You have to go,” he said, easing back. There was regret in his voice, and something else she had a hard time pinpointing right away. Uncertainty.
She tilted her head as he turned back to the stairs to grab her bag. Seconds ago he’d been challenging him to stay, but now he was clearly dismissing her.
“You’ve got pick up?” she asked, searching for something to say.
“Mmm hmm.”
He walked her toward the door. She hated the space now between them. With one hand on the knob, she turned to face him, needing more than just this casual farewell.
“Mike...”
“Thanks for stopping by.” He pushed his hands into his pockets.
She realized with a pang what this looked like. And what she’d said—needing a Mike fix—so stupid.
“I didn’t just come over to fool around,” she said.
“I know.”
It was the first time he’d lied to her.
“No, you don’t,” she said. His brows drew inward.
She thought of what he’d said at the restaurant—about the girls he’d been with since his wife had died. How many of them had he said a quick goodbye to, just like this? How many of them had used him? She wanted nothing more than to hold him then, to reassure him that this truly was different.
“I wanted to be with you,” she said.
He met her eyes, clearly seeking truth, and her heart cracked open.
“Even if nothing else happened, I like being with you,” she said.
She rose on her tip-toes, and pulled his face down to hers. The moment their lips touched, his shoulders rounded, and his body relaxed. She sucked softly on his lip, remembering the way he’d done that to her body just a short time before.
Her phone rang, making her jump. They’d been kissing three seconds and already she’d forgotten she had to leave.
“That’s probably Derrick,” she said, reaching into her purse. “Quick, think of a good excuse why I’ll be late.”
“You had my face between your sexy thighs?”
The color rose in Amy’s cheeks, and Mike laughed, the way he always did when he’d thrown her off her game.
She coughed. “Truth is an interesting option, but not advisable with one’s boss.” Though knowing Derrick, he’d probably be more lenient with that than “traffic” or “still stuck in line.”
The phone didn’t say Rave when she finally retrieved it from her bag, though. The number was blocked.
“Hello?” she answered.
“Amy?” A woman’s voice, one that took her just a moment to place.
“Carolyn?”
“Yes, hi.” There was a rustling from the other end, and Amy felt herself tense at her therapist’s clipped tone. The woman may have been a pitbull when it came to working through psychological baggage, but she was never anything but patient.
“Sorry,” said Carolyn. “I need to cancel our appointment this week.”
“Sure,” said Amy. “Is everything all right?” Mike was watching her carefully, as if trying to make sense of the conversation through Amy’s body language.
“Things have been better, quite honestly,” said Carolyn. “My office building was broken into last night, and it’s going to take a little while to get everything sorted.”
Amy’s mouth pulled into a frown. She tried to think of what someone might want in Carolyn’s office. Kid’s toys? Her couch? There wasn’t much in the way of valuables. “I’m so sorry. Was anything stolen?”
“Not that I can tell,” said Carolyn. “The police think it was probably a mistake—whoever it was meant to hit the accountant’s office next door. Either way, everyone’s safe, so that’s what matters.”
It may have been what mattered, but Carolyn didn’t exactly sound happy about it.
“Anything I can do?” asked Amy. “I happen to have quite an arsenal of cleaning supplies.” She didn’t, but she would have if Carolyn needed it. The woman had become important to her, and if there was one thing Amy hated, it was seeing people she cared about suffering.
“No, but thank you for the offer,” said Carolyn. “Insurance has to make their assessment first. How is everything going on your end?”
She looked up at Mike, focusing on his mouth.
“Good,” she said.
“Good. Then we’ll catch up next week. Can’t wait to hear the latest on Mike.”
“Okay,” said Amy, grinning. She hung up.
“Everything all right?” Mike asked, making Amy realize she was still staring at
the curve of his lips.
She explained what had happened, talking quickly because now she had even less time to get back than before. When she finished, she gave him a quick peck.
And then another. The third was really supposed to be more of a goodbye kiss, but turned into something much more, and soon his hand was sliding down her hip, and her back was pressed against the door.
“You have to go.” He smiled against her mouth.
“To be continued?” she whispered.
He brushed her hair back behind her ear.
“Leave the box and I’ll take it to the post office on my way to get the girls.”
He really was the best kind of guy.
“Come out and get it yourself,” she teased.
He hesitated at the threshold, a shy smile on his face.
“I don’t have another shirt.”
“It’s Florida, who cares?” she asked, and then grinned broadly. “You worried people will talk? Oh, I hope they do. I’ll be the most popular girl in school by fifth period.” She wiggled her eyebrows dramatically.
He lunged at her, and before she could jump away, he’d hoisted her over his shoulder. Kicking and laughing, he carried her to the car, and she once again was shocked by the close up, upside down view of his tattoo. As she struggled, she ran her hands over his skin, surprised to find it not smooth as his chest was, but rough, as if the tattoos themselves had scarred him. Before she could consider it too much, he’d paused by the back tailgate. Sensing something was wrong, she squirmed out of his grasp, now hoping someone didn’t see the way her skirt scrunched up her hips as she slid down his body.
A black muscle car’s tires screeched as it raced down the residential street and disappeared around the corner. Amy followed Mike’s gaze to the burnout marks on the curb right in front of the house.
“Guess they had the wrong place.” Amy said.
Mike was frowning. “I guess.” He deliberately relaxed his face and squeezed Amy’s shoulder. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Probably some kids ditching school.”
“Aw,” she said, feeling better. “Your big manly self scared them.”
More: A Body Work Novel (The Body Work Trilogy Book 4) Page 17