“You have friends to talk to.”
“Yes and no. Malcolm is my oldest friend, but he’s married to his third wife, has a baby. His perspective is different.”
“You prefer the perspective of a twenty-four-year-old junior employee?” I challenged, not ready to let him off the hook.
“I prefer your perspective, your intelligence, and your humor,” he said, “I find that I can’t let go of the idea of you, of your energy and laughter and the way you see things. So if I’m going to obsess over you, there’s not much sense in avoiding you. That is if you can forgive me being self-righteous and sending you away before, and also being greedy enough to want you back.”
“That depends,” I said.
“On what exactly?”
“I have no idea, but it sounded more dignified than just saying yes. So I have to come up with some kind of condition. Like I’ll only have you back if you, fuck, God, I’m terrible at playing hard to get,” I said. “I had a date with Jason from Marketing.”
“I know. Millie told me. Just to torment me, I believe. Or else to spur me into action.”
“Did you think I was trying to make you jealous? I’m just trying to move on.”
“Did you let him kiss you?” he said, his eyes going dark, predatory.
“No,” I said, pulse kicking up sharply.
“Will you let me kiss you?” he said.
I nodded, eager as anything, “Yes. I will. That’s my condition. You owe me a condition so I’ll only have you back if you kiss me. I mean, really kiss me so I never forget it.”
“That’s the easiest condition ever. All I’ve wanted to do since you opened that door is kiss you. Come here,” he said.
I swear I batted my eyelashes at him. Then I sidled toward him. He opened his knees and I stepped between them. His hands, those big hands I’d fantasized about, were on my hips, pulling me closer. I bent my head toward his, my hands on his face. The scrape of his stubble against my palms, the way the planes of his face felt under my fingers—I almost melted, not being able to believe I had him here. He pulled me onto his lap in a quick motion and slid his hand into my hair. He tilted my face the way he wanted it. Then I opened for him and everything was on fire. Everything in my body was saying yes.
He gave me a slow, teasing kiss that ratcheted up my desire until my body hummed, my breathing nothing more than a continual gasp. He had gathered me against his chest, holding me close, and he was working that tongue in my mouth so good that my stomach clenched. Then he pulled away, his hand smoothing across my belly as if he knew how I was reacting.
I stood up and held out my hand. He took it and followed me to my couch. I wasn’t ready to trust his return, and definitely wasn’t ready to take this to bed. It was too new, too fragile, and exciting. He ran his thumb across my knuckles with a knowing smile as our eyes met. He lifted my hand and kissed it, “Lovely,” was all he said.
Brent sat down on the couch beside me. He took my hand, which he was still holding, and laid it against his cheek. He turned his head and kissed my wrist. He slid my loose sleeve back to my elbow and kissed his way up the length of my forearm, just his hot mouth on bare, sensitive skin that had never been kissed before. I felt dizzy like it could be a dream.
“Are you really here?” I whispered.
“This is the only place I want to be, Cat. Here with you. I tried to fight it and be a better man than I am, but I failed so I’m here because I want to kiss you anywhere you’ll let me, for as long as you’ll have me.”
A shudder ran through me at those words. I knew exactly what he meant. I knew if I had whipped off my striped pajama pants, he would bury his face between my legs and lick me there, just the way I’d fantasized about.
“I just thought of another condition. I need a new copy of your Forbes cover,” I said.
“Why?”
“I threw mine out.”
“I deserved that, but why do you need a magazine cover when you have me?” he said, puzzled.
“You’re a busy man. You’re not always here, Brent. Sometimes I’m going to need to get off thinking of you.”
“I’d give you anything,” he said, and seemed to mean it.
“Kiss me,” I said.
He cupped my face in his hand gently, stroked my cheekbone with his thumb as he lowered his lips to mine. He was so gorgeous, so incredibly handsome, and his eyes dark and lustful. I felt the quiver of arousal in my belly as I reached for him. We kissed softly back and forth, his tongue trailing along my lower lip, flicking at the roof of my mouth. Then when I was breathless, he pulled me onto his lap, tugged me forward against him so my thighs were around him.
“This is the most fun my couch has ever had,” I said with a laugh.
“None of my furniture has had such an evening.”
“Not even the bed?”
“I never bring a woman to my bed.”
“So no one enters the inner sanctum? Should I make that my goal?”
“If you like,” he said, his mouth on my neck.
Brent’s hand on my back, his hand on my neck supported me as I arched in his arms. I draped my hands over his shoulders and rose on my knees to kiss him. I gave him deep strokes of my tongue, really tasting him, exploring his mouth and making sure he knew he was mine. I didn’t let myself think about loving him, about how much I felt for him or the risks I was taking with my heart. I just kissed him for the sheer physical pleasure of being kissed by a master, of having my body stroked and cradled by a man who knew what to do with his hands.
I had his tuxedo bow tie off and flung it somewhere over his shoulder. I started on his buttons, opening the front of his crisp shirt to get my hands in there on his hot, smooth skin. I kissed his chin, his neck as I felt his arousal growing against my belly. I put my mouth to his chest, tasting that skin, touching the coarse chest hair. I took his hand that was on my hip and ran it up my stomach to my chest. I needed his hands on me, just for a moment, just for relief. I released his hand, and he went after my breast immediately, as if he’d been starved for contact. Kneading, rubbing, giving me the heat and pressure of his touch, squeezing and reveling in my breasts. His thumb worked back and forth over my nipple until I felt heat pooling between my legs. I could have taken him right then, all of him bare, easily because he had me so wet. Still, I had the sense to hold back. To know that it was too soon to give him everything, although I was already his to command. I swallowed the words of love I wanted to say and just ground against him, relishing his hands molding to my body.
Brent kissed me again and again, nipping at my lips and my face, my throat. He pressed a big hand to the small of my back to bring me in contact with his erection, so stiff and thick I thought it impossible. He had a huge cock, and he wanted to put it in me. I wanted him to, wanted it beyond even being able to speak, but I knew it wasn’t the time.
Brent shifted me off of his lap and held me against him, so my cheek rested on his chest. I nearly wept at the sensation. I had wanted it so long, this cherishing, this chest and these protective arms, the feeling of being pressed and held to his heart. It made me ache with a beautiful, bittersweet joy. I clutched his shirt and tipped my face up to meet his eyes.
That was when he kissed me, the sweetest, most reverent kiss I’d ever had. Our lips locked, the tip of his tongue lapped at me a little. I moved deeper into the kiss, so he went deeper, tonguing me until I trembled in his arms. He trailed his fingers along my cheek and gave me such a romantic kiss that when our eyes met, he kissed my forehead and hugged me. It was a perfect ending. Then he snuggled me in his arms and rested his cheek on my hair.