He reaches out, lightly slapping his hand against mine, grabbing hold of it before I can drop my arm. “Thanks, Stel.”
My breath lodges in my throat when he laces his fingers through mine. I watch as his thumb lightly traces a path across the top of my hand, a shiver moving through me. It’s still raining outside, the sound of the drops hitting the car the only noise, and I find myself leaning toward him.
He’s leaning toward me too, our hands still clasped between us. He’s so close, I can hear him breathing, and I can tell that it’s accelerated too. My lids fall shut just as his mouth lands on mine.
Oh God, we’re kissing. Tonight, we shared intimate, rarely spoken stories between us, and now we’re feeling some sort of connection and we’re kissing. I should push him away. Tell him to stop. Tell him this is an extremely bad idea.
But I don’t. I don’t want him to stop. I don’t think this is a bad idea. Instead, I kiss him back, my lips parting, welcoming his invading tongue. The kiss deepens in an instant, and I disentangle my hand from his so I can wrap my arm around his neck and pull him in closer.
It’s awkward, though, kissing in his car. Uncomfortable. I can think of a much more comfortable place to be doing this. In our apartment. On the couch. The loveseat. Oooh, maybe his bed. Or mine.
Okay, definitely mine. I don’t want to make out with Carter on his sister’s old comforter she left behind.
I break the kiss first, smiling when he chases my lips with his own, trying to kiss me again. I reach up, pressing my index finger to his mouth to keep him in place, keep him quiet. “Let’s go inside,” I suggest.
He presses his forehead against mine, breathing heavily, and a thrill courses through me, knowing I affect him like this. “Once we’re inside, are you going to tell me this is a bad idea and we shouldn’t do it?”
Nodding, I whisper, “No.”
Yes, I nodded on purpose. He did that to me the night we watched the movies, leaving me thoroughly confused.
Carter kisses my finger that’s still resting on his lips. “You sure about that?”
“Positive,” I say, shaking my head.
“You’re a contradiction, Stel.”
“So are you, Carter.”
I drop my finger and he kisses me. Once. Twice. Then he’s the one who’s retreating and I’m the one chasing after his lips with my own. He grabs his keys and throws open the door, the steady rain beating a hard rhythm on the sidewalk.
Yeesh. I so do not want to be outside in that. But I don’t have a choice.
Inhaling deeply, I throw open my car door and rush outside, slamming the door behind me. Carter hits the keyless remote, the horn sounding and the headlights flashing in the night, and we both make a mad dash for our building.
The drops are heavy and constant, the rain relentless, and by the time we’re both running up the stairwell, I’m completely soaked through. My cute little black dress with the white flowers dotted all over it is plastered to my body, as is my hair. I’m sure my makeup is running down my face.
I can only imagine how terrible I look.
But Carter doesn’t seem to mind. His hands go to my hips as I fumble with the key, and he pulls me backward so my butt is nestled against his front.
Where I can feel his erection.
Well. That escalated quickly.
Twenty-One
The moment we’re inside, Carter is shoving the door closed and turning the lock. I toss my purse on the nearby end table, am about to switch on the lamp, but Carter grabs me, pulling me into his arms and pressing me against the front door.
Our mouths fuse, urgency overtaking us both. I’m clawing at him, my hands in his hair, his hands roaming over my waist, my hips. Our tongues tangle, searching each other’s mouths, and my skin heats despite the chill left over from the cold rain.
My body recognizes his touch and responds accordingly. My breasts ache when he cups them, my nipples growing hard. Or maybe that’s from the cold outside air, I don’t know. All I know is I feel like I have no control. All I want is more. More, more, more. I wrap my leg around his hip, pulling him in closer. I’m desperate to feel his erection between my legs, rubbing against me, and just like that, I do. The thin material of my dress is no real barrier against his denim-covered cock and when it presses against me, I let out a shuddery moan.
Oh God, I wonder if I could actually come like this?
I’m thinking yes.
Thunder rolls outside, startling us both, and I pull away from his lips, blinking up at him. It’s dark in here, there’s no light on, but we left the drapes open on the living room window before we left earlier, and the outside streetlight is casting us in a bluish-white tint. His face is wet, his cheeks flushed and his lips are swollen. His hair is wild, and I swear I still see droplets clinging to his lashes.
He is truly the most gorgeous man. I can’t believe we’re doing this.
I’m so glad we’re doing this.
“You want me to stop?” he asks, his voice low. Gravelly. Delicious.
Slowly I shake my head. “No.”
He reaches between us, his fingers settling on the tie belt that rests at my hip. For long, agonizing seconds he tugs on the end of the fabric, unraveling the bow I tied only a few hours before. It’s a wrap-style dress, meaning it comes completely undone once he unties it, and the fabric parts, revealing me to him. He takes a step back so he can fully take me in, his warm, hungry gaze roving over me, examining everything at once, like he has no idea where to look first.
“You’re not wearing a bra,” he observes.
“If I can get away without wearing one, I will. Too restrictive.”
Reaching out, he nudges the fabric away from my bare breasts and cups them in his big hands, his thumbs reaching up to brush against my nipples. Slowly. Back and forth. Putting me in a hypnotic state. “I hate bras. You should never wear them again.”
Smiling, I lean into his hands, my eyes sliding closed when he draws his thumbs and index fingers together to pinch my nipples. It feels good. It also hurts. Is it wrong I like both sensations coursing through me?
“I remember you liking it when I did that.” He pinches them again, harder this time, and I suck in a sharp breath, hissing when I exhale and he still hasn’t let up.
“I liked it when you did a lot of things,” I admit, my voice soft.
I can’t even blame my total honesty on alcohol. I am a hundred percent sober right now. That single glass of wine I had with dinner was hours ago. I noticed Carter really didn’t drink either. Not like we did our one night together, when we could blame our actions on too much wine and not enough common sense.
I have all my senses about me, and I still want this. I want him. He may be feeling low and suffering through his own special midlife crisis, but when it comes to this, he takes control.
And I love it.
Bending his head, he curls his hands around my back and holds me in place as he feasts on first one nipple, then the other. He sucks and licks my tender skin. Gently sinks his teeth into my nipple at first. Hard. Harder, until I’m gasping and squirming in his arms.
“Fuck, you’ve been making me crazy since I saw you at Sweet Dreams that day with my sister,” he admits, nuzzling the valley between my breasts.