But I stupidly want to do more than what we can do on this couch—with Maggie home. I also want him to stop before my heart gets tripped up and shattered.
“Rye,” I mumble against his lips, trying to catch my air and my sanity.
“Please don’t get even with me right now,” he says, his lips moving down to my neck.
Oh damn. I’ve never felt lips so demanding—hard and soft at the same time. I want to live in this torture for as long as I can.
“What do you mean?” I ask, trying to push him away, but pulling him closer instead as I gyrate my hips.
He growls, and I move again, doing what I can to drive him as crazy as he’s driving me.
“I mean don’t stop this to get even with me for last night. Let’s call a truce for the night.”
I’m torn between smiling and swearing. I’m past the point of confused.
“You want a truce?” I ask breathlessly, curling to him as he continues that divine trail of kisses, dragging his lips across my collarbone on his way down my chest.
“I want a lot of things right now, but we’ll start with a truce.”
I’m fairly certain my heart has stopped beating or else it is racing too fast to be felt.
“Okay,” I say like a crazy girl who is begging to be broken.
He stands with me still wrapped around him, and I’m almost positive he’s going to put me down and leave me hanging. Again. So I do what any sane, rational person would do—I clamp my legs around his waist so tightly that they’d need the Jaws of Life to undo me.
Yep. Problem solved.
“What are you doing?” I ask when he starts walking, but his lips refuse to part from mine for long, and he returns to the hungry kiss without answering.
Not that I’m complaining.
Every emotion I have conflicts with each other. I want to stop and never stop at the same time. I still feel us moving, and then I hear the door shutting behind us. It takes so much effort, but I pull back to see him carrying us across the yard.
He tries to go for my lips again, but with fresh air comes some clarity, and I’m able to dodge his attack. But in his soft brown eyes, I see that mischief is back, and his smile is stealing the last ounce of my strength.
“Where are we going?” I ask as we reach his yard.
“Where do you think? You want to cook in my kitchen. And I want to see that... Later.”
Yep. I’m putty. All of the sensible is tossed away as madness sinks in and my lips return to his with an almost desperate need. I’ll worry about the consequences later. Either way, the friendship is fucked. Might as well enjoy the perks.
His talented tongue provokes fantasies I plan to live out, and I kiss him back with every bit of my desire pouring free.
The door pushes against my back as he fumbles with his keys, but he finally gets it unlocked and carries me over the threshold. I still have a death-grip on his waist, and my legs try to cramp from all the exerted force.
“Christ,” he murmurs, breaking the kiss and gasping for air.
“Don’t you dare freak out and run,” I mumble, moving my lips back toward his as he navigates his house the best he can without being able to see around me very well. “I will hurt you if you do.”
He laughs as he meets my lips with a teasing kiss, and then I’m suddenly tossed onto a mattress that angels had to have made themselves.
“I’m not freaking out and running,” he says, slowly climbing over me, nudging my legs apart with his knees and then settling into the space he’s created. “You’re not getting out of here tonight.”
The knot that forms in my throat almost chokes me, and my senses become hyperaware of everything around me. Each breath, touch, taste, smell... It’s all driving me out of my mind as he takes his time, slowly bringing his lips down to my neck and tormenting me with pleasure.
“You’re trying to torture me,” I groan when his hands slide up my waist and just narrowly miss my breasts.
His throaty chuckle does that weird thing to my heart, and my legs tighten around him in response. He leans back and tugs his shirt over his head, and my eyes go straight to the hard lines of his chest and stomach, and I lick my lips while staring at all the ink.
His bluish-black nipple ring has my attention, and I run my fingers over it. He watches me for a moment, his breaths heavy and fast as I toy with the warm metal, but then he drops to me.
His sleeved arm comes to rest beside my head first, and then his half-sleeved arm comes down next. I try not to act as out of breath as I am, but he’s half naked and he’s on top of me. So that makes breathing a very complicated thing.
“Not yet. I’ll have time later to torture you. Right now, we’re both putting each other out of our misery. Because I can’t fucking think anymore. And you’re not any better off or you wouldn’t be skipping work to huddle up on your couch.”