by Kylie Scott
“Do you feel better for me having told you all that?”
“Yes,” I admit.
“There you go then.” With another sigh, he sets the ice pack aside and joins me on the sofa. “I think you need to do the thing we talked about you doing a while back.”
I draw my brows together. “What? What thing?”
“You know.”
“No, I don’t know.”
Yet another sigh. Never has a man been more put upon. Just ask him. “How’s your toe?”
“Sore.”
“You think it might be broken? Want me to take you to a medical center to get it checked?”
I think it over, carefully moving the appendage. “No. It’s probably just a sprain or something. I don’t think there’s much they can do about toes. I’ll see how it is tomorrow.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Let me know if you change your mind.”
“Do you want me to move out?” I ask, dreading the answer.
“What? No. Of course not.”
My shoulders slump. “Oh.”
He shakes his head, a half smile curling one corner of his lips. “Anna. Baby. At least I’ll never have to wonder what you’re thinking. It’s all written right there on your face. You’re the least mysterious woman I’ve ever met.”
“I am too mysterious.”
“No,” he says in a definitive voice. “And I can’t tell you what a fucking relief that is. Every woman I’ve ever known has pretty much had me in a constant state of confusion. But not you.”
“I’m not sure this is a compliment.”
“With you, it’s more like a semi-constant state.” He tucks his hands behind his head and relaxes back against them. “A now-and-then sort of thing instead of an endless everyday ‘what the fuck does she mean and why the hell is she mad at me now?’ I actually have a fighting chance at figuring shit out with you. It’s a hell of a thing.”
“You’re rambling. What were we talking about before?”
“I was referring to that time you hit on me.”
I freeze.
“You remember.”
Give me strength. “I could hardly forget.”
“Don’t be embarrassed,” he says, as if it makes everything better. “You were drunk and horny and dealing with a lot. Like, more than most people ever have to deal with in a lifetime. I thought you did quite well keeping your shit together.”
“Thanks,” I say drily.
“We all makes mistakes now and then.”
“Great.”
“And if we’d gotten involved then, it would have been a mistake.” He stares off at nothing, pondering this for a moment. “A big mistake.”
I slide down. I’d disappear if I could. “Right.”
“Huge, even.”
“You’re doing absolutely nothing for my ego.”
“Huh? Oh. Hang in there.” He pats me on the knee and then goes so far as to leave his hand there lingering for a moment. “The point I’m trying to make, Anna, is that that was then and this is now.”
“So?”
“So you should try again,” he announces with a smile.
“What?”
“Try again,” he encourages. “Come on to me.”
I wrinkle my nose in his general direction. He cannot be saying what I think he’s saying. Impossible.
“I told you at the time if you were still interested to proposition me again in a couple of months,” he says, holding his palms out in front of him. “Here we are. Why not give it a go?”
“Because you rejected me?”
“Yeah, but I explained that.”
“Leif,” I say, pausing to take a breath. “You’re offering yourself up here like some game of chance. The only thing is, when I lose at this game it’s not only humiliating, but it hurts.”
“Anna.” His gaze softens. Something about the way he says my name turns me into goo. This man . . . holy hell. “We didn’t talk about it before you tried to kiss me last time so there wasn’t much I could do. But this time, we’ve already got all of our talking out of the way. Do you really think I’d set you up to fail?”
I don’t know what to say. He’s dead serious. And all of a sudden my heart is hammering inside my chest.
“The look on your face this morning killed me,” he says. “But there was no way I was ever going to restart something with Roshuane while there’s something happening between me and you.”
“You’re interested in me?” And I sound so small and fragile. I hate it, but I can’t help it.
“Have I not been chasing your gorgeous ass around for months now?”
I frown. “Have you?”
His brows rise. “Well, I have for me.”
“Huh.”
“Are you coming over here or what?” he asks. “I feel like we need to hug it out. And stuff.”
“And stuff?”
He tips his chin. “C’mon, Anna. Take a chance. I won’t let you fall.”
Never has covering a couple of feet worth of couch been so fraught with danger. So loaded with meaning. Not that I have any real clue what any of this means. Nor am I going to stop to think about it right now. I can overthink things later at my leisure. Right now, I’m a great big freaked-out ball of nerves with a throbbing toe. A hug from Leif sounds wonderful. I no sooner rise up on one knee than he’s grabbed me by the waist and dragged me onto his lap. Only we’re chest to chest this time. I’m sitting straddling his body and what a body it is. His arms wrap around me and I rest my cheek on his shoulder. My breasts press against his firm chest and I’m not going to cry because that would be weird. It just feels like coming home. It’s also just been a big day. A big couple of days. A big year.
“This is better,” he says, letting out a deep breath.
“Yeah.”
So much bare skin it’s going to my head. If only I could will my tee and bra out of existence so that there’s nothing between us. That would be sublime. He’s so big and brawny and beautiful with his muscles and tattoos. With the way he’s so totally at ease with himself. Meanwhile, I’m not sure where to put my hands first. Where I’m allowed to touch and what I’m allowed do now that the rules between us are changing so fast.
His head rests against mine and we just cling to each other for a moment. A long moment. I’d crawl under his skin and make myself at home if I could. After all of the uncertainty, it’s good to be this close. Like we’re melting into each other. Like nothing could ever come between us. This hug is everything. Right up until I feel his fingers creeping under the hem of my tee and up my back. The rough skin on the pad of his thumb rubbing back and forth across my skin gives me goose bumps. All of the little hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. The man is electric.
“I thought I was meant to be making the move,” I mumble.
“You took too long.” He rubs his nose against my hair, even pausing to sniff. Whatever turns him on. “Figured you needed some encouragement.”
Which is about when his fingers reverse direction and dip below the back of my jeans to trace the waistband of my panties. Plain sensible white cotton, but you can’t have everything. What’s really nice, or indeed, exciting, about all of this is the feel of him starting to harden against me. Someone other than my ex wants to sleep with me and the accident hasn’t stolen my feminine allure. My elusive girl power. Amazing. Two stupid concerns crossed off the list. This is all doing my confidence untold amounts of good.
“You’ll tell me if you’re uncomfortable or anything?” he asks.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Your toe’s okay?” he continues. “Your muscles aren’t cramping or sore?”
“All good.”
With one hand wrapped around the back of his neck in case he tries to escape or something, I nuzzle my way up to his ear. What a thing of pleasure he is. There’s a musky male scent to him that’s high inducing. Since he’s made no attempts to throw me off, I let go of my hold on his neck and experiment with running my fingers over his stubbl
e. Then there’s the thickness of his shoulders and the swell of his pecs, his sensitive flat nipples all just waiting to be caressed. I could pet him for hours. And I just might.
Meanwhile, his fingers are gripping the tops of my ass cheeks, encouraging me to press against him. Encouraging me to grind myself against him. I haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time and it’s a dizzying good thing.
He turns his head, his lips pressing against my forehead. Such a sweet man. “I usually have more control than this.”
“It’s fine.”
I thread my hands through his hair, testing the silken strands. He’s a dichotomy of sensations. Soft hair and hard muscles. Rough stubble and smooth lips. I rub my thumb over his bottom lip and he fakes taking a bite. This time at least. The heat in his gaze makes me think he enjoys this sort of thing. Playing a little rough. Sounds like fun to me.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I’m good.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.” Good and sure along with a little annoyed now, actually. “Am I doing anything to make you think otherwise?”
“No, I just—”
“I’m not fragile, Leif. You’re not going to accidentally break me or something.”
He just blinks. “Well, baby, to be honest . . . I’d bend you over the nearest table and fuck you hard except I was trying to take shit slow and be romantic since this is our first time and all. Maybe you just want a make-out session and that’s fine with me. I’m happy just to have my hands on you, so it’s your call.”
“That so?”
“Yep.”
Which is about when I grab his gorgeous face and kiss him like my life depends on it. Because in that moment it sort of does. I am not a mess. I am neither a patient nor a problem. Hell no. I am the woman who is going to shake him up some. Strong arms band around me, holding on tight, while our mouths fight for dominance. My tongue tangles with his and I take his breath into me. He tastes of toothpaste and hot man. And Leif doesn’t hold back in the least.
Any curiosity regarding the size of his dick is also fast being sated. There’s no doubting the heat and hardness pressing into me. Sleeping pants don’t leave much to the imagination, bless them.
Hair mussed by my hands and lips swollen by our kiss, he damn near takes my breath away with his beauty. I want to write him bad poetry and hang his picture on my bedroom wall. Do all of the things with him and for him. It’s scary to feel so much so fast.
“I want to say something clever and charming, but I’ve got nothing,” he says as his mouth grazes along my jawline.
“No?”
“You’re real pretty,” he murmurs in a rough voice.
“Thank you. So are you.”
Everything low in my belly is honed in on the feel of him against me. The way we fit together just so. My panties are wet, my pussy swollen. And we’ve barely gotten started. At some stage, he’s slipped a hand up the front of my shirt. I don’t recall when. Clever fingers ease my bra cup out of the way. He takes one breast in hand, squeezing and kneading it just so, rubbing his thumb back and forth across the hardening nipple. His other hand rests against my spine, keeping me close, urging me to keep rocking.
This time when he kisses me it’s slow and sure. Teeth nibble on my bottom lip. His tongue flicks against mine with expert precision. It’s deep and thorough, as if he’s learning me. Seducing me even. The happy humming noise he makes sends a thrill straight through me. I trail my hands down his chest, through his scattering of chest hair, over the start of his six-pack, and then over to his sides. Which is where his shoulders hitch up and he stops me with a gasp.
“Don’t,” he says.
“What?”
Nothing from him. But he grips my hands and relocates them to higher ground. Back up on his pecs. The smile he gives me is odd, to say the least.
“I can’t touch you down there?” I ask with a frown. Which is when it occurs to me. “Wait. Are you ticklish?”
“Only a little.”
“On your sides?”
A grunt. “Some.”
“That’s so cute.”
“It’s manly,” he corrects.
“Sure. That too.”
As my fingers start to trail downward again he snaps, “Don’t do it.”
“I’m not doing anything.”
“You forget,” he says, wrapping my arms around his neck. “You are not mysterious. I can read you like a book.”
“That’s harsh.”
“Okay. You’re a little mysterious. But you’re still not tickling me.” He licks his damp lips. “Otherwise, I’ll be forced to interrupt proceedings by throwing your fine ass on the bed and conducting vile and twisted experiments to discover your own ticklish spots.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. Oh.”
“I don’t like being tickled,” I say.
“Then let me suggest an alternative course of events.”
“I’m listening.”
He grabs the hem of my tee, carefully tugging it up and over my head. My bra is as wonky as can be, with one boob proudly on display care of his earlier ministrations. Not a good look. Fortunately for all, Leif has the undergarment gone in no time at all. A useful guy to have around.
“Okay. Here’s the plan,” he says with all due seriousness. Next he stands, taking me with him on account of my arms and legs now being wrapped around him. But we don’t go far. Only into my bedroom, where I’m deposited on the mattress. He then divests me of jeans and panties. I’m now officially bare-ass naked. For a second, it’s tempting to try and cover up. Ultimately, however, this would be a stupid move. And my various scars and assorted wobbly or dimpled bits don’t seem to bother him. Confidence in all things. Or at least a solid attempt at same.
“This is the plan?” I ask.
“You naked on your bed. That is the whole plan. What do you think?”
“I propose an amendment to the plan.” I nod. “Lose your pants.”
“Not yet.”
I’m on the verge of whining in a ladylike manner when he drops to his knees at the side of the bed, grabs my legs, and tugs me toward the edge of the mattress.
Okay then.
All of my dimpled and wobbly bits are on display and there’s no opportunity for me to cover myself or try to hide. Nor should I need to. Time to grow up and get confident. We’re doing this right now. Obviously he’s okay with my body, however, because next my legs are draped over his shoulders. Without further ado the man plants his face in my pussy. And then he says something. Something I cannot decipher, though it sends a thrill straight through me on account of his positioning.
“What?” I ask, smiling. I can’t help it. His lips moving against my labia, his breath against all of that oversensitive flesh. Maybe he’s a pussy whisperer. Who knows?
“You smell good,” he says before dragging his tongue through me. My back bows and holy hell. The rough of his stubble down there carefully grazing against me is amazing. So facial hair does have a useful application after all. “And you taste even better.”
There’s no time for me to respond. No space in my brain for formulating words. Not with the way he holds my sex open with his thumbs and gets busy eating me. It’s more enthusiasm than anything. His tongue licking and teeth nibbling. The suction and sheer overwhelming dedication to the task. I’ve never had a man come at me with such eagerness. In no time at all, the heat is building, the pressure mounting, and I’m grinding my ass into the bed. Not sure if I want to get away or get more. Most likely the latter. It’s just a lot.
I haven’t felt so much in . . . pretty much forever.
The lower half of my body is ignited. The rush of it spilling out over me from top to toe. When he sucks on my clit, toying with it with his tongue, I’m done for. Dead. Deceased. With a choked whimper it crashes over me, claiming me, and I’m just the remains of a woman left lying on the bed.
It takes a while for my thighs to stop shaking. In that time, Leif
has taken a swig from the water bottle on my bedside table and stands considering me. “It’s been a while for you, huh?”
I nod.
“Me too.”
Without a word, I crawl further onto the mattress, taking a moment to pull myself together. To wonder what comes next.
The expression on his face is distant. Contemplative. “Once isn’t going to be enough. Is that all right with you?”
“Shouldn’t we see if we’re any good together before making any ongoing commitments?”
His smile is sneaky. Amused. “You really think we’re going to be lacking in chemistry? After that performance?”
It’s hard to talk to a man with a dick pointing toward the ceiling. Hard to keep your eyes on his face, at any rate. Dicks are distracting. Or his is. Noting the object my gaze is drawn to, he slips his thumbs beneath the waistband of his sleeping pants and drops them to the ground. Yes. That’s definitely an engorged penis. My guess was right. And he’s thick and long and all things good and right and then some. His penis is a thing of beauty.
Thank you, Baby Jesus.
“You got condoms in here?” he asks.
“Bedside drawer.”
He retrieves the unopened box and sorts out the prophylactic requirements in no time. I can’t help watch him, spellbound by his every movement. By his naked body. By his big hands moving in sure and swift movements. Then he crawls onto the bed toward me, situating himself between my legs.
“My fine lady,” he says in a low voice. “I am doth here to prove myself. And my fine appendage.”
“I don’t think that’s how you use that word.”
“Appendage?”
“Doth.”
“Ah.”
And he covers me with the heat of his body, his weight taken by one elbow situated beside my head. My world is suddenly small and intimate and smells damn good. I don’t know what to do with my hands. With any of me, actually. This is all so good, but strange at the same time.
“Why are you nervous?” he asks, kissing along my jawline.
“I don’t know.”
“No?”
“No,” I lie.
It hasn’t been a year for good things. I’ve gotten scarily used to disappointment. While the odds of this here between us not working out are minimal, I don’t want to get my hopes up just the same. Just in case. But it’s hard to keep your expectations under control when there’s a smokin’ hot man in your bed. When he’s decided to make you his sole focus. Then there’s the worries in the back of my head. Stupid things like, where does this leave us now that we’ve exposed our genitals to each other? Stuff like that.
