“Definitely not,” I replied. Him just being here, holding me, made everything feel so much better. “And I’m sorry about the shoes. They’re beautiful and I love them. Sometimes I don’t accept gifts well.”
He chuckled. “Can I ask why?”
I shrugged and he didn’t ask me anything else.
We stood in my kitchen for what seemed like hours, just holding each other until I managed to say, “I’m okay.” His chest muffled my words.
He sighed, his ribcage rising and lowering against my breasts. “I should go,” he said, but didn’t release me.
“Don’t,” I whispered.
“I don’t want to.” He sounded tired. As if by hugging him, I’d sapped him of his energy. “And that’s why I should. We said no more trips to Vegas.”
We had, and it had been the right thing to do. The problem was the more time I spent with him, the more I wanted.
“Then let’s go somewhere else,” I said, smoothing my hands up his back, shifting my hips just a fraction.
“Harper,” he whispered.
“Aruba,” I suggested. “Or Paris.”
He dipped his head and kissed my neck. My knees weakened in relief. It was what I’d been waiting for since he arrived, since lunch, since the last time he’d touched me.
“Or just here,” I said, trailing my fingers up his sides and around his neck. “Kiss me,” I whispered. “Just be here with me.”
He grabbed my ass and brushed my lips with his, first left then right. I wanted more. I wanted him. I didn’t know if he was trying to torment me or still weighing the advantages and disadvantages of being with me again.
I slid my hands down his chest and he caught my wrists before I could convince him to stay.
“You want me, huh?” he asked, placing my hands on the counter behind me.
I wanted to drown out the day. “Kiss me.”
“You think this is about making you feel better about today. But it’s not,” he said, his eyes not leaving my face. “It’s about this.” His hands swept up my arms and cupped my face. “About the way you feel when I touch you.” He bent and placed a kiss on the corner of my lips, teasing me, making me wait. “About how you need me to fuck you more than you need your next breath.” He knocked my legs apart with his knee.
I couldn’t argue with him. Nothing he was saying was untrue.
I wanted him. Every second. Since before I’d met him.
Even when I thought he was an asshole, I wanted him.
But I wasn’t about to admit it.
I squirmed when he reached into the waistband of my leggings, his insistent hand pushing into my panties. “You see?” he asked. “You’re wet for me.”
He ran two fingers up and down from my clit to my entrance, giving neither relief. I twisted my hips in an effort to feel him deeper, harder.
“Admit it,” he said. “Admit how much you want me.”
I shifted my hands from the counter where he’d placed them and grabbed his shirt, fumbling with the buttons.
“No,” he said, removing his hands from my underwear and batting my hands away.
I groaned in frustration.
“Admit it,” he said.
“I want to get fucked.” It was true.
“You are the most infuriating woman I know. And that’s a mighty high bar given the women in my life.” He pulled up my T-shirt, making me shiver as he grazed my skin with his palms. “Fuck,” he said when he realized I wasn’t wearing a bra. “Tell me. Tell me now.”
“You want to feel special?” I asked, taunting him. “You need to know that women desire you over anyone else?”
He shook his head slowly. “Just you. I need to hear it from you.”
“Why?” I asked as he bent and took a nipple in his mouth, his tongue circling and sucking, his fingers tugging at the other.
“Because it’s the truth,” he said and he kissed me again on the lips. “Because it’s what I feel whenever I think of you, whenever you’re near.”
Heat ran into my limbs and I put my arms around his neck, gazing into his eyes. He stared back and lifted me onto the kitchen counter.
I nodded. “It’s true. I want you.” The words sounded soft as they came out. Did he notice?
“I know,” he said, his gaze flickering to my mouth just before he pressed his lips to mine. I sighed with relief. A layer of calm engulfed us as if our mutual admissions bound us together. My tongue found his and instead of being urgent and possessive, I allowed myself to go at his pace. I encouraged his seduction of me.
He leaned back and placed a kiss on my nose. “If you’re still wearing clothes, I’m not doing something correctly,” he said as he pulled at my waistband.
What had I just admitted to him? Had I said I wanted more? I wasn’t sure, but all I could focus on were his fingers pulling down my leggings, the glazed look in his eyes as he examined every inch of my skin as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. Nothing else seemed to matter.
As my clothes hit the floor, he scooped me off the counter and walked me out of the kitchen and over to my bed. When we’d been together before, we’d both acted as if we were against the clock. Tugging at each other, desperate to make each other feel good as soon as possible in case someone rang the bell and told us our time was up. This was different. Our kisses were lazy, our movements languid. He ran his palms down my body and brought his hand to my inner thigh as he lay next to me.
“You’re wearing a tie,” I whispered.
“Like I said, one of the brightest junior researchers I’ve ever worked with.”
I smiled and reached out, pulled the silk material clear of his neck, opened the top couple of buttons of his shirt, and slipped my hand against the skin just below his neck. I sighed. He would make today go away.
Quickly, he stood, stripping completely naked in seconds, throwing his three-thousand-dollar suit on the back of my couch. Then without asking, he opened the drawer to my nightstand and took out a condom.
“Are you dating?” he asked as he joined me on the bed. “No. Don’t answer that.”
I stroked his cheek and he looked up at me. “Are you dating?” I asked.
“No,” he responded. “I’m—”
I stroked my thumb over his lips. He didn’t need to explain himself. I didn’t really care, because whatever else was going on in his world, or my world, I wanted this to happen. I didn’t want to think about tomorrow, to consider consequences. I wanted to drink in the way his eyes, tongue, and hands all seemed to worship me.
He leaned forward and kissed me, taking my bottom lip between his teeth before biting down until it stung, then pushed his tongue against mine. I could kiss him forever. If his penis fell off, I could be happy for the rest of my life with just his tongue. Without stopping kissing me, he put on a condom.
“I love your kisses,” I said before I had time to think maybe that wasn’t something I should say.
He groaned against my mouth. “And what else?” he asked, his fingers skimming the juncture of my inner thigh.
“Your fingers, your face, your cock.” The words tripped out of my mouth, and before I had time to take any of them back, he was over me, pushing into me, slowly but so deep. I brought my knees up as far as they would go, opening myself as wide as I could for him.