Hnnnnnnng
From his little confession, I clench my legs around him, knowing damn certain that I'm wet, aroused, and beyond ready for him.
Shyly, I look at him through my eyelashes and ask, "What's taken you so long then?"
He strokes my cheek, heart in his voice. "You deserve more than just a quick fuck."
I gulp, deciding to throw all my cards on the table. "Sometimes a quick fuck is just what someone needs." Where is this coming from? What happened to all the guilt, all the knowledge coursing through my mind that this is wrong?
I look into his sultry eyes and know it's coming from deep within me. No matter how wrong it might be, I can't help myself. I can't help but egg him on and see how far I can push him, how far her will take this. If he will actually make a move . . .
He shakes his head. "Nah, not with you, Emma. You're the kind of girl you spend the night worshipping."
One of his hands slides to the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him where he rests his forehead on mine.
"If that's the truth, then can I ask you another question?" My breathing isn't the only erratic one. Before me, Tucker seems to be feeling the same kind of tension I'm feeling with every passing touch of his thumbs.
"Ask me," he says, his nose rubbing against mine intimately.
"Do you want to worship my body . . . tonight?"
Not even skipping a beat, he says, "More than you fucking know."
His hand tightens on my jaw, the other one curling around my neck. His mouth opens as his nose grazes my face. Fuck me. Fuck me. Just do it. Just kiss me. I can't take it any longer.
Our breathing quickens, our breath caressing one another as the air around us ceases to exist. With one more pause, Tucker presses his thumb into the back of my neck and then his lips graze mine, teasing me, tantalizing me with what's to come. It's a whisper of a kiss, a brief glimpse of our connection, and when I think he's going to end everything with just that light touch, he presses further but never too hard. He keeps his lips soft, his need in control. It's sexy as hell, to the point that I'm forced to wrap my legs around his waist and clench hard.
Lightly he nips my lips, runs his tongue along them and tastes each corner, as if he's trying to memorize this moment. There is no memorizing for me. It's impossible when I know this moment will be forever engrained in my brain.
Wanting more, I glide my hands tentatively up his chest. He groans from my touch and starts to work my mouth a little faster. When I press my hands over his pecs, he groans louder, and his mouth picks up pace. I match each kiss with his, our mouths sliding against each other until his tongue parts me, begging for entry. There is no denying his demand. I open my mouth and collide my tongue with his, the force of his kiss taking control. I try to keep up now, matching each thrust, each groan, every lick of his tongue.
This kiss is everything.
From the pit of my stomach I know this moment will top every first kiss I'll ever experience. From the way he presses his body into mine, to the hold he has on my neck and face, to the way he equally matches my kisses with his, it's undeniably the most sensual moment of my life, as well as the most misguided judgment of my life.
And just as I settle in for a long night of kitchen make-out time, Tucker removes his mouth from mine, but not before placing a final kiss on my lips. Hazily, I open my eyes to meet his. When I expect to see that charming grin of his, instead, I see a look of uncertainty.
Uncertainty?
Uh, not the kind of thing a girl wants to see after experiencing by far the best kiss of her life.
Uneasy, I ask, "What's wrong?"
He steps away from me and grabs the back of his neck while his other hand rests on his hip. God, even standing there, looking unsure, he is the sexiest man I've ever seen.
"Tucker?"
With his head still turned down, he looks up at me. "Shit, Emma." Oh no. "I lost control . . ."
And there it is, regret. Wow, that was a lot quicker than I imagined it would be. I would have at least given him the night.
I hop off the counter and put on a big smile. "No problem. I get it." I pretend yawn and stretch my arms over my head. "You know, it's getting late and I'm not really that hungry. I think I'm going to call it an early night." I start to walk away and then turn to him. His eyes? They still look uncertain.
He wishes he didn't kiss me. Does he want me to leave? Do I just go?
"Let's just say this never happened, okay? A lapse in judgment. I'll see you in the morning. Night, Tucker."
I make my way to my bedroom, listening intently for him to quickly follow behind me, to tell me he was just kidding, that he actually wants to continue kitchen make-out session, but he doesn't follow me. Instead, the house fills with an uncomfortable silence, while inside my heart and head, I'm screaming. In frustration, in anger, in humiliation.