He wanted to hear so many other sounds from her. His free hand moved up her other arm, slowly roaming up toward her shoulder, to the line of her neck, and she surprised the hell out of him when she let him.
When his fingers touched her neck, she closed her eyes and leaned into his touch. A surge of male prowess rushed through him.
“I thought you hated me,” she admitted, her eyes still closed as his thumb stroked her silky flesh.
“You have no idea how much I tried not to like you.” Her eyes popped open, and he watched her face break into the biggest smile ever.
“Why would you ever want to do that?” She grinned from ear to ear, but he didn’t answer.
“Then the agency sent you to the second day of the shoot, and you snuck in and pointed out an angle I hadn’t seen. The moment I snapped the shot, I knew I had to keep you,” he confessed.
“Keep me?” she wearily asked, and he couldn’t blame her. He shifted closer; their knees bumped, but he needed to be closer still.
Without a word between them, he picked her up and moved her onto his lap. She shifted to get more comfortable. He saw the way her eyes lit up and knew she felt him and his thickening bulge under his jeans. Her eyes warmed into beautiful pools of ocean water, and he took a deep breath in through his nose, her scent stronger, driving him crazy, but he had to focus.
“At the beginning, I told myself it was about work.” He shook his head, knowing he wasn’t making it clear enough for her. “I lied to myself. Michele, you… you colored my world every single damn day, and every damn day I fought it. I wouldn’t let myself admit how I felt about you until last Christmas,” he confessed, and she gasped, her hands stroking his shoulders, silently giving him courage to keep talking. Jesus, she had him in a bad way if he was stuttering like a schoolgirl with a crush. “That plane ride when you told me about—” he pointed around them. She brought her hands to his face; her baby blues were glassy—“It was a turning point.”
“But you went home with her,” she shared in a hushed tone, making him scowl.
“With who?” He had gone home alone.
He knew because he’d gone home, and the only way he had been able to get some rest after that plane ride and his mind overflowing with everything Michele, he’d had to jerk off twice before he could get some relief.
“That model, the one who started doing the television show right after the shoot. Chelsea?”
“Claire?” His eyes widened and then narrowed. Suddenly, everything about that night made sense. “You thought I went home with her?”
“She was there, waiting for you.”
“No. She was waiting for Barry,” he corrected, and she squished her face so damn adorably.
“Barry? Your assistant?”
“Yeah. She called me over. You stayed, and I went. She was looking for him, and I told her he was a couple of rows behind us. She insisted I wait to have a coffee with them because they had some news they wanted to share with us. I walked over to you to tell you, but you said your friend was there, and waved good-bye to me.”
“I lied,” she whispered as her hands stroked his jaw. Damn, he liked her touch. He always had, but this was different. She was touching him freely and without worry of crossing any lines between them. It felt fucking great.
He had imagined what this moment would be like. Her touch on his body. But his imagination couldn’t have come close to how perfect she felt.
Her curvy body on his lap. Touching his face so damn tenderly, his dick jerked in his pants.
“Why did you lie?” he found himself asking even as everything in his body yelled at him to kiss her. Make the moment about a kiss instead of the past. But his heart and mind stopped him. He had a feeling they needed to clear the air before they went there.
“I thought…” She sighed and looked away from him, her eyes set past his shoulder. He gave her a moment, and like he knew she would, she looked back at him, her gaze reconnecting with his. “That entire plane ride, it felt like something was happening, and then she was there. You went to her, and when you were walking back to me…”
“What?”
“You looked disappointed. Like you wanted to go with her.”
“I was disappointed,” he admitted. “I didn’t want to wait around for them to tell me they were moving in together. I already knew.”
“They did?” she wondered, and he shook his head, ignoring everything about Barry and Claire, needing to make sure she got where he was coming from.
“I wanted to take you home,” he admitted. “I didn’t want whatever was going on to stop. I just wanted to be with you,” he confessed. She leaned her face closer to his. Zaid’s heart was beating furiously against his chest. He was right there with her.
“I didn’t know. I thought—”
“Now I know what you thought. At the time, I didn’t get why for the first month or two after that day, you were distant.”
“Why didn’t you say anything, Z?”
“I couldn’t get myself to risk losing what we have,” he apologized.
“What?”
“You know me,” he pointed out, hating how open he had to be right then; it left him feeling exposed. “I don’t have a squad of friends,” he reminded her.
“A squad?” Her eyes widened with mirth as she pressed her lips together. Fuck, he wanted a taste of those lips. “I think you’re a little old to call it that,” she teased, busting his balls; he must be a sick fuck to enjoy it.
“Careful, or I’ll spank that pretty ass pink, baby.” Her cheeks flushed, and she bit down on her lower lip. She liked the idea. Nice. “You’ve been my best friend the last year. If I moved in and shit went wrong between us, what do you think would have happened?”
“So now, you’re what? Willing to risk our friendship?”
“I don’t think it would be a risk,” he admitted confidently, and her eyes searched for something in his as they both leaned in closer.
“Why is that?” Her voice was soft and breathy.
Michele’s lips were a mere centimeter away from his own, and he had no fucking clue why he hadn’t kissed her yet. How he hadn’t gripped the side of her face and devoured her mouth, stolen a taste of her. He deserved a fucking medal for the control he was demonstrating.
“I think you know.” His voice sounded like gravel, scratchy and deep in his own ears.
“I do,” she finally spoke, and just like that, they simultaneously closed the space between their mouths and fireworks shot off behind his eyes the moment her lips touched his.
Michele
I am finally kissing him!
Straddling him, his hands tangled sinfully in my hair, I moaned as my own hands gripped his broad shoulders. Passion unlike anything I had ever felt in my twenty-nine years of living ignited like gasoline to a fire.
Next thing I knew, he moved us. Swiftly and smoothly. I found myself on my back, his body hovering over mine. Just like he had been in countless fantasies.
Looking up at him, my breathing hard, my hair fanned across the lush pillows, I smiled. This was real. Not a fantasy. I couldn’t stop myself. I needed more.
The heat of his body was like a blanket covering mine. I hooked one leg over his hip, pushing his body even closer against mine. Cupping his face, I leaned upward to meet his mouth, then we both got lost in the desire and passion burning between us in a kiss.
“Don’t stop,” I begged him the second his lips left mine.
“No fucking way I could stop, ‘Chele.” His mouth felt like sin, and I never wanted to be right.
His mouth started to pepper kisses down my chin as he made his way to my neck, slowly moving down to my collarbone. His deep voice vibrated against my skin. I was nothing but a puddle of desire below him.
His mouth and hands roamed and explored and ultimately conquered as he breached the top of my pants.
Zaiden
He was going to lose his shit. He needed to think about something that would keep him from rip
ping her goddamn clothes right off her body. His dick throbbed against his jeans, and he hadn’t even touched her yet. Not under her clothes at least.
“Zaid.” She gasped his name like a fucking plea, causing his self-control to break.
He pulled away and looked at her.
He needed to see his hands as he undid her pants.
He needed to see his hands pull them down her hips, letting them rest around her knees.
He needed to wipe that fucking nightmare from his memory and replace it with the reality of his touch on her body.
He needed to memorize every curve and angle and edge of her body with his hands and mouth.
“Fuck,” he cursed, his eyes pinned to her creamy flesh and pretty, baby pink cotton panties.
He had taken pictures of women in fancy lingerie, shit that cost more than a fucking used car, made of the rarest, most beautiful scraps of fabric, but looking at her in those soft cotton pink panties, he had never laid eyes on anything as fucking exquisite as her.
She squirmed under his gaze and tried to cover herself, but he gently grabbed her wrists.
“Don’t.” His voice was rough. He hadn’t meant for it to sound that way, but he needed to keep watching her.
“Z, I wasn’t planning on this happening. If I had, I would have worn—” His eyes met her blushing and nervous face when she didn’t need to be.
“You’re fucking beautiful,” he rasped. Her disbelief was clear in her eyes. God, how could she not know how incredible she was?
“You don’t have to blow smoke up—” she started arguing, and his lips twitched upward. Even half naked beneath him she was still giving him lip, and he loved it.
“I’m not,” he cut her off, gently taking hold of her wrists with one hand and pulling them up over her head. He shifted to his side, his free hand skimming the waistband of the soft material.
“Zaid.”
“Don’t hide from me. Never hide,” his deep voice ordered, but his heart softened at the insecurity that flashed behind her eyes.
“But—”
“This. Right here”—he pressed his fingers over her mound, and she gasped. He felt the sting of her nails digging into the hand that held her wrists as he skimmed her mound with the lightest of touches—“is fucking perfect. Just like you, baby.”
“Zaiden.” She squirmed trying to get more of his touch. He smiled wolfishly, his nose flaring as he caught a trace of her feminine scent.
“Such a pretty pink…” he whispered hoarsely, his eyes moving up her body until their eyes connected as he stroked her intimately.
“Z.”
“I would bet your pink is even prettier.” Her cheeks turned a brighter shade and her eyes gleamed with passion. She liked his filthy words. That was good because he had plans for them. “Say my entire name,” he ordered.
“Zaiden.”
“What do you want, baby?” he coaxed her, needing to hear words just as filthy as his own.
“Touch me,” she whispered so fucking softly, so damn breathlessly, he felt it in his dick as it swelled with all the blood that was rushing southbound.
“You want me to touch you?” he asked her, the tips of his fingers leaving her mound and moving up to the soft swell of her belly, pushing her tee upward.
“Here?”
“Zaiden,” she groaned. Her eyes closed as her head dug deeper into the pillow.
“Open your eyes, Michele,” he demanded, stroking her soft skin, reaching right under her breasts. Soft baby blues finally met his eyes.
“Tell me I can have you.”
“Please…”
“Tell me what you want,” he demanded again.
“Zaiden.” She bit her lip as his hands roamed back down but stopped at the waistband of her panties.
“Tell me how you want me to touch you,” he urged.
“Zaid, please…”
“Please what?”
“Touch me. Make me come. I need to. God, Zaiden.” She squirmed and writhed. “I’m so wet, Zaid. Please. Fuck me. No teasing. No games. Please.” He stilled and his grip on her wrists loosened.
Her breasts rose and fell with her heavy breathing, which was just as uneven as his. “Are you sure?” He couldn’t believe he was even asking.
He should be worshipping her body with his mouth, not thinking about giving in like some teenaged kid about to get his dick wet for the first time. Jesus! He was almost forty- five, for fuck’s sakes.
“We can play after,” she panted, and he swallowed hard. Fuck. She was incredible.
A feast for each and every one of his senses. The way she looked, bare and all, for him.
Just him.
The way she sounded; her moans would only ever grace his ears. The way she felt and smelled.
All for him.
Only him.
“After?” he repeated. He didn’t know why he wasn’t fucking naked already.
“Round two. Unless you’re a one-round kinda guy. Which is fine,” she rambled nervously. He had stamina normally. But with her, he knew she would be amazing inspiration. “Right now, you have me so wound up I’ll take whatever I can.”
“Be careful what you ask for, Michele. I only have so much control,” he warned, but with the way she looked back at him, it was as if he was challenging her.
“Fuck me, Zaiden,” she requested, and who was he to deprive a lady of what she so sweetly requested?
He rolled off her and stood. Never looking away from her, he grabbed the back of his tee and pulled it up over his head, dropping it next to her. Her greedy eyes sparkled with lust and desire and something he hoped meant more.
“I like this view,” she teased. “I have a great angle. I wish I had a camera.” Without thinking, trusting her completely, he grabbed his cell from the back of his pocket and tossed it to her.
“Are you serious?” she asked, leaning her body on her elbows, the cell phone in one of her hands.
“I would do whatever you want,” he admitted wholeheartedly, neither of them moving for a long moment. Without exchanging a word, she brought up the camera feature on his cell and snapped a handful of pictures.
Her eyes blazed with heady desire. “Keep going, Mr. Klausen,” she cajoled, and he made slow work of taking his belt off and dropping his jeans. Standing there in nothing but dark gray boxer briefs with her snapping pictures of him, her eyes burning hot for him, he was fucking turned on and exposed all at the same time. When he kneeled by her feet, she looked at him over the camera. “Take the rest of my clothes off,” she urged, and he gave her a wicked grin.
“Don’t stop with the pictures.” In a whirlwind of movements, his hands and hers, they were both in nothing but their underwear within seconds. He grabbed an extra throw beside her, taking his phone in his hands.
“What are you doing?”
“Trust me?” he asked, his heart beating furiously in his chest, his dick straining for her sweet heat.
“With everything,” she answered honestly. A surge of testosterone rushed through him, leaving him feeling like a king among men.
“I would never let anyone see these,” he swore.
He snapped a picture of her. Her face wasn’t visible, only the span of her smooth, flawless flesh from her belly button to the bottom of her breasts, napping a couple of shots of her skin from various angles, even one of his hand on her.
“Zaiden.” He could see her need for him and couldn’t agree more.
Dropping the phone, he pulled and kicked off his boxer briefs, covering her body with his. She opened her legs, the heels of her feet touching his bare ass, and all he wanted to do was sink into her. Instead, he let the tip slide up and down her sweet warmth without penetrating her, teasing both of them.
“Michele,” he panted as if strangled.
“Please, baby… please,” she begged, and he nodded.
He shifted over her. The tip of his dick was now flush against her heated center, and without taking his eyes off her, his fingers pull
ed the gusset of her pretty panties to the side and he let himself sink slowly into her silky heat.
“Shit,” he cursed, sensory overload rushing through him. He took a moment before moving, his hands clenched and unclenched as he tried to keep his shit together.
“Yes!” she hissed. His forehead touched hers.
“Michele,” he whispered, and she stared back at him. Being inside of her was unlike anything he’d ever felt. This wasn’t just sex. It was an intimate connection, and he was lost. So damn ruined after this. He couldn’t decipher where he ended and she started. So deep in her, both holding on so tightly all they could be was one.
“Zaid,” she panted and moved her hips, and a deep guttural groan escaped from within him.
“Baby… you feel…” Beads of sweat started to form at his brow.
“I know,” she panted. “I feel it, too,” she whispered. He needed to kiss her, so he did.
Without words exchanged, they both started to move. In tune with one another on a completely other level. Breathless and sweaty, they didn’t stop.
Not until they reached the highest peaks of pleasure and free fell together into an abyss of beauty and passion.
Michele
If this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.
Ever.
He pulled me into his arms, draping an exquisitely plush, oversized throw over us. His scent, the mix of his skin, sweat, and body wash with whatever expensive cologne he wore, was heady, leaving me feeling almost drunk from it.
I didn’t want to say anything out of fear I would somehow break the moment. What did this mean? Did he mean everything he had just said? I opened my mouth to speak, but the tender kiss he planted on the top of my head made me pause and enjoy the moment.
If this was all I would ever get, I would take it. I knew I sounded like an idiot, but I couldn’t help myself. I was head over heels in love with Zaiden. Had been for longer than I wanted to admit. And what had just happened was a double-edged sword. Knowing what he felt like deep inside of me, his mouth on mine, he’d ruined me for any other men who might cross my path in the future.
Zaiden Page 4