by West, Harper
I swallowed hard. The urge to pull her close, to kiss her until she didn't have anything to say but my name was hard to resist, but I gritted my teeth and put the food on the table, going against my better instincts and pouring more wine.
"Where are you getting all these things from?" Caro asked, taking a seat at the table and nodding when I offered her a glass.
"The store," I answered, settling down across from her like I had the night before. Having the table between us was a good idea. "I have to do something while I'm here by myself all day."
She lifted an eyebrow but didn't say anything else, clearly not wanting to pick a fight. I appreciated that. I wasn't feeling combative, and I hated it when she went off on me, even if she was right more than half the time. Maybe especially because she was right more than half the time.
There were things she didn't know about me, things she was completely wrong about, but she still had a way of seeing me that was unnerving now after six years apart.
It made me feel vulnerable and laid bare, and it wasn't the way I wanted to be bare with her at all, even though I could acknowledge that if we were ever going to be anything to each other again, I was probably going to have to get used to it.
It would be worth it, though.
I opened my mouth to ask her about how work had gone that day and then stopped. I didn't want to talk about her work. I was her work, basically, and whenever we talked about it, she got angry. Probably with good reason. I didn't want to invite conflict. I wanted to get to know her better.
"What's your favorite kind of food these days?" I asked instead.
She frowned as she chewed a mouthful of pasta and then washed it down with the white wine. "Why? Are you planning to cook for me every night I'm here?"
"Maybe," I said, and then I shrugged. "It's nice to have someone to cook for, actually. It's harder to justify doing a nice dinner when it's just for me, you know? And usually I'm too busy to really enjoy it."
She nodded, pushing noodles around on her plate with her fork. "I understand that. I honestly can't remember the last time I had a meal someone made for me. Someone who doesn't work in a restaurant, I mean. It's easier to have food delivered if I'm going to be working late, and even if I do get home early, I don't have much energy when it comes to cooking."
"And you're a terrible cook," I teased before I could think better of it. I'd had enough of Caro's thrown together dinners back in the day to know that unless she'd taken some serious lessons or spent some time learning some other way, she probably still couldn't manage more than boxed mac and cheese on a good day.
Caro rolled her eyes, but there was a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. "Whatever," she said. "I have other talents, and I can afford to have food brought to me most of the time. I make do."
“Carolyn James,” I said, lifting my glass to her. “I think you’re the queen of making do.”
She snorted, but there was a pleased little blush on her face, and it made me feel warm to see it. The more interactions we could have without her finding more reasons to hate me, the better things would be.
I wanted something from her, but she had to want it, too.
We finished eating, but neither of us made a move to get up just yet. I poured more wine for myself, and Caro held her glass out, letting me fill it again.
We sat there, sipping and savoring, barely talking, but trading glances every now and then. It was comfortable and awkward all at the same time because I kept thinking about dancing with her, twirling her across the kitchen and then that dip. The way I’d felt her back against my palm, warm and solid even under a layer of clothes. And then I’d seen that same back, watched the curve of it where it met her ass, and it was hard to think about anything else.
Especially with the wine in me.
Finally, Caro pushed back from the table, finishing her glass and gathering the plates. “I’ll do the dishes,” she said. “It’s only fair since you did the cooking.”
I quirked a little smile because that had always been our arrangement. Whenever I cooked, she would load the dishwasher in my apartment, singing to herself while she did it. I wondered if that was still her habit.
I moved to help her, gathering the rest of the things and piling them neatly near the sink to be washed. We still weren’t talking, but that tension from earlier was back. Whenever I turned to do something, I could feel Caro’s eyes on me, and I wondered if she could feel mine on her when her back was to me.
I brought the last of the dishes over, moving closer to her to fill a pot with water to soak. It brought me close enough to her that I could smell her shampoo again, and when she turned to look at me, I was caught in the brightness of her eyes and the smattering of fading freckles on her face.
When I leaned in closer, it was like magnetism. Like I didn’t have a choice in the matter. I was drawn to her, the same way I had been years ago, but I didn’t take that last step. I didn’t close the distance. She had to want it, too.
Her eyes were wide, and her lips parted. I could tell she was either nervous or surprised or some combination of the two.
Just like before, she went to move away, but this time, I didn’t let her. My hand shot out, and my fingers wrapped around her wrist, holding her in place.
It was a light grip, and if she wanted to get away from me, it would be easy for her to do. I expected her to jerk away, to tell me not to touch her, to throw her walls back up and make this ten times harder.
But instead she dragged in a breath and let it out, sounding shaky. Her cheeks were pink, and her eyes were on my hand on her wrist before they darted up to my face.
“What do you want from me, Kevin?” she asked. For once, there was no anger or hostility in her tone.
I knew the answer to that question, but it didn't seem like the right time to say it. I still didn't know what she wanted, after all, and I didn't want to scare her off while things were still so new between us.
"Do you want me?" I asked her. "Because sometimes it seems like you do."
"You can't answer a question with another question," she mumbled, glancing away. "And it's not fair for you to turn this back on me. Whether I want you or not doesn’t change anything."
She had a million ways to get out of saying what I wanted her to say, but she hadn't pulled away yet. She hadn't told me off for touching her. When I moved in closer, her breath caught, but she didn't move back. There was almost no space between us, and the scent of her shampoo was all I could smell, and I was tired of holding back.
If she didn't want it, I knew she'd let me know in no uncertain terms. And if she did want it...well.
Well.
She was wrong. It would change everything.
I leaned down, closing the distance between us, and then let my lips brush hers, light and soft to begin with, giving her ample room to kick me in the balls or whatever if she wanted me to get off of her.
A soft, ragged sound tore from her mouth, but then she was kissing me back. She rose up onto her toes and put a hand on my chest, not to push me away, but almost like she needed to be steadied.
Her mouth moved with mine, and I could taste the sharp, lingering flavor of the wine on her lips. On her tongue when I caressed it with my own, deepening the kiss.
She gasped into it, and I wondered how long it had been since someone had kissed her like she deserved to be kissed. Had savored her the way I wanted to.
I let go of her wrist and put my hand at the small of her back, feeling that dip again, tracing the muscles I'd seen just an hour or so ago.
My other hand slid into her hair, feeling the heavy softness of it, still a bit damp.
Caro moaned softly, and it was like fire rushing through my veins. She was so small and soft and perfect, but I also knew she could kick my ass if she wanted to. She was fire and strength in a small package, and it was so fucking attractive. Even more so than it had been six years ago.
I hauled her closer to me, groaning into the kiss as I deepened it f
urther, my tongue sliding against her, sweeping through her mouth while she clung to me.
I couldn’t get enough, and I backed her against the sink, determined to only let her go when she made me.
Chapter 13
Caro
Oh god.
Oh lord.
What was I doing?
That thought went through my head again and again, but there was never any answer. The part of me that was preoccupied with being kissed more thoroughly than I had in ages kept shushing the part that was screaming this was a terrible idea, and I was caught in the middle.
It was a terrible idea. Definitely. One hundred percent. I was going to come to my senses and want to smack myself for being stupid.
But he was a damned good kisser. His mouth was hot and wet, and he kept stealing my breath with each pass of his tongue, each press of his teeth.
I felt like I was falling and floating all at the same time, and it was hard to focus on anything but the way his mouth felt on mine and the way my heart was trying to beat its way out of my chest.
With every second that passed, I felt myself giving in, accepting that I wanted him. I flashed back to the time when I’d touched myself thinking about him, and I felt myself getting wet immediately. There was no question that, bad idea or not, I wanted it to happen.
So when he pulled back and licked his lips, I chased his mouth with my own, dragging him down for another, messier kiss. I bit his lip and held him close to me, tasting the pasta and wine in his mouth, tasting myself a little, too.
He just groaned and let me take the lead, and I kissed him until I was breathless.
When he took my hand and led me up the stairs, I didn’t protest. We went to the side of the house where his bedroom was, and I didn’t stop him or pull away.
His bed was messy and there were clothes on the floor, but I barely noticed when he was shutting the door behind us and pressing me against it, getting his hands under my ass so he could haul me up and hold me against the door.
Fuck, that was incredibly attractive, the fact that he didn’t have any problem doing that. He held me up like I didn’t weigh anything, and it was the perfect angle for me to wrap my legs around his waist and hold onto his shoulders while he kissed at my throat.
His lips blazed a burning trail, and I gasped softly, rocking my hips forward with need.
"Tell me," he growled against my neck, and I shivered, brain not making the connection with what he wanted me to say. It was too busy short circuiting because of how turned on and needy I felt.
It had just been so long since someone had touched me like this, since I'd felt so wanted, and even though I knew it wasn't the best thing to do, I wasn't going to stop it. Not when there was a fire blazing under my skin, and my heart was pounding, pumping the beat of desire through every inch of me.
I made a questioning noise, and Kevin growled again, pressing me harder against the door, hips pushing down against mine in a rough thrust that made me moan softly.
"Tell me you want me," he said, and there was a hint of desperation to it. Like he was holding himself back until he heard me say those words.
I swallowed hard.
Of course I wanted him. I could feel that want spreading through me, driving me to buck against him. It was in the flush that spread from my cheeks down to my chest, and the way my pussy was already slick and wet and eager to be touched my him. If he was paying attention he would already know. Saying it was a whole different thing.
But he needed to hear it, clearly. When he pulled away from my neck to look at me, it was there in his bright eyes, the pure need and the struggle to wait until he heard it.
I swallowed again, mouth suddenly dry.
If I didn't say it, he would probably stop, and I would go back to my room alone and be angry and frustrated for the rest of the night. Hell, for the rest of the week.
And if I did...
If I did, I didn't think I could take it back.
My body was screaming at me to stop being stupid and just say the words. The thrum of desire under my skin was just building, getting more and more insistent, and I opened my mouth, not able to hold back.
"I want you." It came out raspy and soft, but there it was. The words he wanted to hear so badly.
And it was like throwing a switch. The desperation in his eyes was still there, but there was fire to them too. Determination and pleasure, and something that looked like promise.
He smirked, but it wasn't the usual cocky one. No, it was more of a slow, seductive thing, and I made an involuntary noise of desire in the back of my throat.
Before I knew what was happening, he'd moved us away from the door. He tossed me down onto his big, unmade bed, and I bounced a bit. There was no time to get my bearings before he was moving to loom over me, pressing me back to the plush pillows as he crowded into my personal space and started kissing me again.
I went with it. I met each kiss with one of my own, body writhing under him, fingers twisted into the fabric of his shirt.
He had one hand bracing him above me, and the other traveled down my body, skimming over my breasts with little more than a squeeze, and then down, down, down to the center of me, right between my legs where I was the most needy for him.
He pressed a firm palm to my cunt, and even through my pants and underwear I could feel the heat of it, and my pussy responded in kind, throbbing and getting even wetter.
"Please," I gasped against his mouth, hips bucking up again, chasing more of that friction. "Don't tease."
He looked down at me, and for a moment it looked like he was going to say something, but then he just nodded and licked his lips, pulling away for a second.
My body immediately mourned the loss of his touch, but I was treated to the sight of him pulling his shirt over his head, showing off his toned arms and chest, and the trail of hair that led from just under his navel to the waistband of his pants.
I hadn't seen his cock in years, but I remembered it. I remembered the full stretch of having it inside me, the way he knew just what to do with it, and my mouth watered just thinking about it.
When his hands went for his belt, I followed his lead. There was no going back from this either way, and I was so turned on it was hard to breathe.
I pulled my shirt over my head, and I hadn't bothered with a bra after my shower. My breasts were on display, modest handfuls with dusty pink nipples that were already peaked from the attention.
I wiggled out of my pants and underwear too, kicking them to the foot of the bed in a careless heap. And then I was naked under him, toes curling in anticipation.
Kevin stopped what he was doing and just looked down at me, lips parted. "Fuck," he murmured. "Jesus Christ."
I blushed and glanced away, not sure if I wanted to watch him watch me.
"Stop staring," I muttered back.
"I can't help it," he said, and he climbed back over me, his pants off, but underwear still on. "You're so fucking beautiful, Caro. Jesus."
"Stop that," I said again. "Just...get on with it."
For a second, he ignored me, still gazing over my body like it was a work of art. I was on the verge of hitting him before he dipped down to kiss me again, hot and fast, and then rolled away for a second.
When he came back, he was naked, and I got a good eyeful of his cock.
It was thick and hard between his legs, jutting up from the patch of pubic hair. My breath caught, and part of me wanted to push him down and get that lovely dick in my mouth, but my pussy was needier, already soaking and trembling at the thought of being full.
Kevin watched me watch him, and then grinned.
"Tell me again," he said.
"Fuck off," I grumbled.
He shook his head and got between my legs, stroking the head of his cock gently over my folds. I tensed immediately and then moaned, the soft feel of it sending shivers up my spine.
"Please," I moaned. "Fuck."
"That's what you want?" he asked. "You want
me to fuck you? Like old times? You want me to fill this pretty cunt up with my cock?"
I licked my lips, but then shook my head. It took a second for me to find my voice. "No, I want you to show me what you've learned since then," I fired back, and he grinned at my words.
"Oh, baby," he said. "I can definitely do that."
Before I had time to get a clever retort off, he was spreading my folds with the head of his cock, rubbing through my wetness until he found my entrance. He was big, and it had been a while, so there was a moment where he had to push hard before the tip slipped into me, easing the way for the rest of it.
I gasped and closed my eyes, breathing through the stretch and the slight pain it caused.
"You okay?" he panted, pausing halfway.
I nodded. "Don't stop."
We'd come this far, and I wanted him. I could say it over and over again in my head. I fucking wanted him. I wanted him so damn bad.
Luckily, he listened and didn't stop, and soon enough all of him was sheathed inside of me. I could feel every rock hard inch, every vein as it pressed against my inner walls, and it was hard to lay still, so I squirmed under him, needing a second to adjust and catch my breath, but also wanting him to be fucking me already.
I didn't need to ask, though. After a quick breather, Kevin was moving.
He drew himself out of me slowly, and I nearly fell apart right then and there, just from the slow drag of that hardness against the most sensitive places in me.
I shuddered, and he held himself still for a second before pushing right back in, burying himself balls deep in one smooth thrust.
And that was the end of him holding back. He growled again, the sound low and primal in his throat, and then he was holding himself up over me with his hands, hips snapping forward and he fucked me, working himself into me again and again.
I braced my hands against his shoulders, needing something to hold onto while he drove into me.
It felt so fucking good.
All the times I'd fucked myself with toys or my fingers were nothing compared to how he made me feel in that moment. It was like fire, racing up my spine and spreading outward, dragging me down and keeping me constantly on edge.