“Well?” he asked, basically rasping, groaning. He panted like he’d run up here and maybe he had, or he hadn’t. The back of his knuckles ghosted my cheek. “Tell me you want me.”
Oh my God.
The quiver down to my knees, my swallow hard. Technically, I just mourned the loss of him. Well, not mourned per se but basically. I was forcing myself to get over the fact that a guy I probably neared a decade on turned me down, and I’d been trying to handle said denial with a strong bottle of wine—again. Apparently, I was a borderline alcoholic, wine my default when I was feeling shitty in any situation.
My lips parted. “You came back.”
“You let me.” A smile that tipped his lips up, made him boyish. Guiding my mouth up to his, he fused our lips together again before ensnaring my hips and pressing a knee between them. He’d had to deal with the gathering of my dress, but I easily rubbed hard friction against his muscular thigh. He groaned. “Fuck, I need you naked.”
I needed to be naked. I needed to be out of this dress.
And the door was still open.
I wasn’t quite at the point of voyeurism yet, even post-divorce, and wanting the freedom of whatever this was. I gripped the lapels of his coat, a stark black that hugged every inch of his big body. “Give me a minute?”
He let go, but I didn’t think by choice. He wavered a bit before his forehead dropped to my bare shoulder. I’d taken off my coat and shoes but nothing else. He warmed my neck with his mouth, borderline tonguing me. “How long?”
Good God.
My throat constricted as he peppered kisses dangerously close to the swell of my breasts. But with the strength of a thousand readied females, I forced distance between us when I grappled his shoulders. I held up two fingers. “Just two seconds.”
I needed to get my shit together, my first legitimate one night stand.
And with a younger man.
Something about that excited me, that he desired me. I wasn’t what one would be considered busted, but I was more modest and didn’t do things like this. When I’d met my ex-husband, we’d been in college and he’d done all the work. I hadn’t been easy, made him prove himself to me. In fact, looking back, I think I focused on all the wrong things, how good he’d been on paper and how motivated he’d been. He’d been hungry for his goals as much as I had to become a professor and hit every one of them.
Yes, yes, he’d done that.
That was the past, behind me. That wasn’t now. That wasn’t Ramses.
Ramses.
He kissed my fingers midair, looking like a hungry tiger when he licked, then sucked a polished digit completely into his mouth.
Holy shit.
The vision of him between my legs charged my bud (also between said thighs) on overdrive. I could probably charge a light bulb with it at the present, fuck.
“Two just,” I laughed, giggled like a little girl. Oh God. I forced him back. “Just two. That’s all I need.”
This made him smile, laugh with the timber that hummed deep from within his chest. He pressed his hands to the wall again, staring down at me. “I think I’ve only two within me, Bri.”
I had even less, my hair flicked when he slid a digit down it. He followed all the way down to the tip of the follicles, and my panties were basically drenched, but I managed to ease from beneath him.
I closed the front door.
“Just make yourself at home,” I said, hearing him chuckle from the entryway. Along the way, I picked up my shoes and coat. I hadn’t even bothered to put them away when I’d come in. I’d literally gone straight for the bottle but tucked them both in my closest when I made my way in.
Holy fuck.
I stared at the image in my vanity, hair mussed and lipstick smeared. I decided to rub the matte tone off, which took nothing short of a power sander considering it was virtually smear proof.
We’d been kissing rather hard.
Oh God, was this actually happening?
It was, and I was about to let this guy dick me down until I couldn’t feel my legs anymore. I wanted him to. God, did I want him. I wrestled in my closest for something easier to get out of when I heard him chuckle again from somewhere in the condo.
“Uh, Bri?” he questioned, another deep laugh. “You don’t have any furniture.”
Shit.
I faced palmed myself, all my living room furniture still waiting on delivery. I’d bought it all from the furniture store, but it wasn’t supposed to be delivered until next week. I basically only had what I’d come down from Jersey with, my car, my bedroom furniture, and a fraction of my personal items. I’d wanted to start over here, start fresh. I angled my head. “Sorry. I ordered it, but it hasn’t come in yet.”
Silence from the living room, another laugh. “Well, do you, uh… at least have a bed?”
I did have one of those, and when I reappeared, I noticed he’d dimmed the lights, the electric fireplace on. He’d obviously managed that and made do with my lack of furniture by lounging his big body on the floor. He’d been staring toward the hearth, his coat and dark shoes off. He had the shoes arranged neatly at the edge of the coat, which he spread out like a picnic blanket beneath him, his suit jacket off and folded beside that. The sleeves of his shirt rolled up and tie loose, he angled up on his knees to adjust the flame. Looking like a complete erotic vision.
Looking completely beautiful.
His hair waved in a tousle of angry curls over his eyes, the state he’d been in when he rushed to my door and made himself known to me again. When he’d taken what he wanted, when he’d given himself to me but only after I pushed him. Something told me this Ramses was a very good boy, and I never thought I’d be the one to turn him savage, raw, as that was completely not me.
“Brielle…”
His eyes on my teddy, a raven black as it fluttered over what I considered imperfections. My hips wide and tummy soft. I worked out, but there we just some things the Stairmaster, constant sit ups, and daily runs couldn’t hide. There were things that held history, thighs that subtly weaved with not one, but several tiger stripes. I had stretch marks, most women did, and I was front of Ramses, literal perfection and probably would be well into his days. Guys, in general, were just built differently, age or not.
He angled up, as if in awe of me by the way he stared, but something told me, since I flashed him tits beneath this teddy, his focused attention had something to do with that. I pebbled tight, diamond hard especially in front of his more than observant gaze. His mouth parted. “Damn.”
Good damn or bad damn? I’d ask him if I was bold enough, and really, did people do lingerie if they were causally sleeping together? The last time I’d dated and flirted, I was pretty sure Twitter didn’t even exist.
I scratched bare toes behind my ankle, a nervous tick and something I couldn’t hide. I shrugged. “Too much?”
Please don’t say too much. Please don’t make me feel embarrassed or judged. I already feel completely inferior in front of you.
It took a second for his response, and all the while I felt the pull of a slow retreat back to my bedroom. But then he shook his head, so slow.
“No,” he said, no before waving his hand. “Come here. Come to me.”
Come to him.
Okay.