Our eyes locked as I placed my hand on his shoulder. I started to push off, but then he lowered his head. I looked up as his lips brushed mine. It was a slow sweep. He made the pass with his lips once and then twice. I couldn’t breathe as I felt the heat of his mouth increasing the most gentle pressure as he held me in place. There was an almost questioning feel to how his lips moved over mine, as if it were for the very first time. And it wasn’t, but the night at his place, he hadn’t kissed me like this—not as tender, not so sweet that a ball of stupid emotion formed in the back of my throat. That kiss . . . it was like he cherished me.
My fingers curled into his shoulder, bunching the thin cotton of his shirt as my heart raced. When I thought about him kissing me, I didn’t think it would be like this. No guy had ever kissed me like I was a treasure.
“Reece,” I whispered against his mouth.
Something about hearing his name snapped a part of him. The hand along the back of my neck tightened, as did the one at my waist, and the kiss . . . oh wow, the kiss deepened. I remembered this kind of kissing, but it was different, stronger and deeper. There was no hint of liquor on his tongue, just sugar and tea and 100 percent male. He nipped at my lower lip, wringing out a soft moan that echoed straight to my core, then he parted my lips, tasting me. The kiss was like touching fire, igniting a deep-seated desire. I no longer needed the space to clear my thoughts. My head was an empty road with one destination in mind.
Reece.
Sitting up, I wiggled around until I managed to get a knee on either side of his legs. He watched me with heavy hooded eyes. “I like where this is going,” he said, grasping my hips. “I really fucking do, but I want—”
Done with talking and deep thoughts and well intentions, I cupped his cheeks and got down to business. I kissed him—kissed him just as deeply and as hotly as he’d kissed me.
A deep growl rumbled up and I felt it in his chest as the grip on my hips tightened, sending a wave of hot shivers through me. His mouth opened immediately, and I tilted my head, tasting him. My fingers made their way to the soft brush of hair clipped closer to the sides and then into the longer strands. He made another sound that sparked a fresh wave of desire through me.
His hands slid up my back, following the line of my spine before tangling in my hair for a few precious moments. There wasn’t a second that we stopped devouring one another with long, wet kisses and shorter ones that sent heat flooding my body.
Reece glided those hands back down, over the small of my back, and then he cupped my rear, squeezing until I was gasping for breath. The kiss turned hungry as he guided me down on his lap. Another wave of lust slammed into me at the feel of him, straining against the denim jeans. From the brief moments spent together before, I knew he was long and thick, but I had forgotten just how good he felt.
I rocked my hips, pressing myself down on him, and was immediately rewarded with a blast of sensual pleasure. Resting my forehead against his, I moaned as I tugged on the short strands of hair.
“God, you’re going to drive me insane.” His voice was thick, raw. He pulled my hips down as he grinded up, hitting the right spot through the thin yoga pants. “I don’t think you’re going to be happy until you do.”
Panting, I let my hands slip down the sides of his neck, to his shoulders. “I want you insane for me,” I admitted, biting down on my lip as he brought our hips together again.
“Baby, I’m already insane for you.” He captured my lips in another scorching kiss before breaking away, trailing a hot, shivery stream up along my jaw. “I think you know that.”
Tipping my head back, I held on tight. “Nuh-uh.”
He moved those kisses down my throat, stopping to nip above my pulse. He soothed the erotic burn with a soft kiss. “Every time I saw you this past year, I wanted you here. Right here.” To punctuate what he said, he rolled his hips, pressing the bulge in his jeans against my core. “And every time you turned and walked away from me, I wanted to give chase.”
I shook as he brought his hot mouth to the line of my collarbone. He drew his hands up, letting them roam over my stomach and then farther up, over the swell of my breasts. My back arched as exquisite sensations rippled through me.
“You have no idea how many times I thought about throwing you over my shoulder and taking you back to the stockroom.” His thumbs swept over the tips of my breasts, and they were already hard and aching. “I’m thinking I should’ve just done that. Then we could’ve left all this bullshit behind us earlier.”
My head was swimming, lost in the pleasure he was drawing out of me. “Sounds like . . .” I gasped as his tongue flicked over my pulse. “Sounds like it would’ve . . . been a good plan.”
He lifted his head as he brought his hands to my shoulders, slipping his fingers under the thin, delicate straps. His eyes snared mine. “May I?”
God, he could be asking for anything at this point and I’d hand it over. I nodded, beyond words.
One side of his mouth curved up, and again, there was a pang deep in my chest as he grinned at me, all boyish charm and sensuality, and I knew I’d fallen for him all those years ago. There was no changing that, even though I knew he hadn’t fallen with me, maybe never would, it didn’t undo that he was already under my skin, a part of me.
With his burning gaze locked with mine, he slid the straps of my cami down to my elbows. I didn’t hesitate. Dropping my arms, I slipped them out, allowing the material to settle around my waist.
Reece kissed me softly and then he pulled back. His lashes lowered and I knew he was staring at me, and a bit of the haze lifted from my thoughts. Did he remember what I looked like from the alcohol-filled night? Vulnerability slipped over my skin like an itchy sweater. I was barely a B cup and that was probably stretching it.
But he shuddered as he wrapped his hands around my bare breasts, touching me almost reverently. I looked down, breathless as he held me, his skin a darker tone against the pale and pinkness of mine.
“You’re beautiful,” he growled, grazing the pads of his thumbs over the hard nubs. I jerked as his lips kicked back into that grin. “You like that?”
“Yeah,” I whispered, and then nodded just in case he didn’t get the message.
“I don’t remember what makes you move,” he said, catching my tip between agile fingers. “I don’t remember what drives you crazy.” He tugged gently, and I cried out. His lashes lifted, eyes full of hunger. “You’re sensitive.”