Never Enough(25)

A river of heat floods my body, and I'm swept away in it. I didn't really think this was in the cards. I thought we'd kiss politely in public and shake hands in private.

I thought I'd just be fantasizing about Gavin's body pressed against mine like he needs me, his tongue slow and deliberate against my bottom lip, his fingers curled into my hip. But this isn't fantasy, this is real - his arm around me, his mouth on mine.

His massive erection making me ache fiercely.

We pull back again after a long time, both breathing hard. Even though it's our first kiss - sort of - I still want to wrap my legs around him, right here in this alley, feel his hips move against mine.

"I don't care if you dump me in front of the cameras," he murmurs. "As long as this is real."

I just nod, breathless.

"It is," I whisper.

He kisses me.

"Fuck all this," he says, and kisses me. "Fuck tabloids, fuck record companies, fuck publicists."

"Fuck reporters," I add, and he laughs.

"Fuck Valerie's suggestions of next steps and physical affection benchmarks," he says, and we kiss again, deep and slow. I put one hand on his chest, the hard muscle rippling under his shirt, and I slide it down slowly, my entire body tingling until I stop right above his belt.



       
         
       
        

Gavin pulls away, kisses my jaw, bites my earlobe, and I gasp.

"You don't have to stop," he murmurs.

I know we're in an alleyway. It's public. There's a dumpster twenty feet away and graffiti on the wall facing us, and I know better than to get any further than first base here. But my brain's not really in control any more.

Gavin's phone dings, and I can feel it buzz in his pocket. We both freeze.

"I think we're late," I whisper.

He pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at it.

"Nigel?" I ask.

"Just asking where I am," he says. "I did tell him I was headed to the loo, which he's figured out by now is rubbish."

I pull out my phone as well. I turned the ringer off earlier today, but I've got a feeling I might have a few messages waiting.

There's a wall of them. The latest one is from Valerie and says THE MEETING STARTED AT 5PM.

"Same idea," I tell Gavin.

We're both quiet for a moment, and we look around for a moment, from the dumpster to the graffiti to the swish of traffic out on the main street as we remember where we are. I lean against the wall, trying to collect myself, remember what I'm doing and why I'm here.

Gavin gives me a long look, from my toes up to my head. By the time his eyes meet mine I've forgotten why I'm here again.

"Fuck meetings," he says, stepping forward and taking my hip in his hand.

I grab the front of his t-shirt and pull him toward me and then his mouth is on mine again, hot and hungry, need like I've never felt surging through my body.

Alleyway, I think again, but Gavin slides his fingers underneath my shirt, his callouses rough against my skin, and I forget about it. I do the same to him, his body warm and hard beneath me.

I feel like I'm careening down a hill with the brakes cut.

Slow down, my inner voice keeps telling me. You've only just kissed-

Gavin kisses my neck, just barely nipping at the skin, and I grunt. Then he grabs my ass and lifts me, pinning me against the concrete wall of the alley, and now my legs are wrapped around his hips, his erection pressing against me with pure, delicious need.

Slowing down isn't gonna happen. My inner voice can take a hike.

Suddenly there's a loud bang at one end of the alley, and I jerk my head back.

Still tangled together we turn our heads as one, mouths open in surprise.

There's a truck coming toward us, and as it hits a pothole it lurches with another bang.

I freeze. Gavin slides his hands out from under my shirt, and the truck slows to a crawl. The driver's side window lowers, and I pull myself off Gavin, standing on my own two feet again. 

"You all right, Miss?" the driver calls out.

I can feel myself turn bright red, the color of a ripe tomato.

"Fine!" I call, smiling as big as I can and giving the thumbs up.

Gavin doesn't turn around. It's not like he needs more headlines.

"Just checking," the driver calls. He revs the engine and turns into a loading dock, disappearing around a corner.

I think Gavin's laughing.

"We should go somewhere else," I whisper.

He turns and glances at the alley, thumb edging back under my shirt and stroking my skin, sparks skipping through my veins. There's an open door into an empty hallway, leading to the basement of another tall building, and he looks at me and grins.

I meant my place or his, but the words dissolve before I can say them, along with my objections that it's too fast, too soon.

I want this. Technically, we've been dating for weeks. It's not as if I don't know Gavin, and besides, I don't care what kind of girl it makes me.

We make for the dark hallway, hand-in-hand, a thrill running through me.





23





Gavin





I have no idea where we are and I don't care. It's the industrial cinderblock corridor to some high-rise building, gray and fluorescent. I've got her hand tight in mine and we're both laughing as we try every door on the hall.

A knob turns in Marisol's hand.

"Here," she whispers, and opens the door, looking back at me. I glance up and down the corridor but there's no one there so I push her inside and close the door after myself.

It's dark, lights blinking, the warm hum of electronics echoing off nearby walls. Marisol's right in front of me and I pull her in, warm and soft and yielding as I press my mouth to hers again.

Our tongues entangle. She makes a soft noise, somewhere between a gasp and a moan, and it sends lightning down my spine.

"Shh," I say, pulling away. "Don't get us caught."

I kiss her jaw, the spot under her ear, her neck. Her heartbeat races beneath my lips, her hands on my back, fingers digging into me as I move to her collarbone, then the space underneath it.

I can't remember the last time everything was this clear and sharp, the last time every single one of my senses was so overwhelmed with desire, like fire burning underneath my skin.

For years, every time I've been with a girl I've been dulled, the edge taken off, desire foggy as if I was looking at it through wavy glass.

Not now. It's as if I've grown extra nerves just so they can shiver as well, desire like a thousand pencil points against my skin, hard and real.

Whatever's behind Marisol is only hip high, and I lift her onto it. She wraps her legs around me again and I pull her to me, the delicious friction so overwhelming that I can't even kiss her for a moment, just press my face against her, hand in her hair, trying to gather myself.

"You okay?" she whispers. "We can stop if you're not okay."

I just laugh and bite her earlobe softly, listening to her tiny gasp.

"I'm far better than okay," I say.

Her fingers curl into my shoulder as I speak, and I laugh.

"This do it for you?" I ask, letting my lips barely brush the shell of her ear. Her fingers curl into me again.

"Yes," Marisol whispers.

"I do like how you say that word," I murmur.

I slide one hand under her shirt, my heart racing.

"The way I say yes?" she asks, her voice low and musical.

I run one thumb along the very bottom of her bra, feeling the soft skin underneath, and she tightens her legs around me. I'm hard as iron and I know she can feel it as she rocks her hips against mine.



       
         
       
        

She runs her hand through my hair and puts her lips to my ear.

"Yes," she whispers again.

That's all it takes.

Whatever self-control I had snaps, and I kiss her hard and deep. Marisol arches her back into me as she reaches behind herself, and suddenly her bra is loose under her shirt and my hands are on her small, full breasts, her nipples hard between my fingers.

I pinch. She makes a noise into my mouth, her hands under my shirt, short nails on my back, tiny slivers of white-hot pleasure spiking into me, and I groan.

"Shh," Marisol teases me.

She slides one finger underneath the waistband of my jeans and my cock twitches even harder, my balls tightening for an instant.

Jesus, what's wrong with you? You're acting like you've never been with a woman before.

I run my thumbs over her nipples again, circling slowly, feeling the delicious way they pucker as Marisol presses herself into me, our mouths together. She pulls harder on the waistband of my jeans and then, so slowly it feels like torture, slides one hand down the length of my cock from tip to root.

I nearly lose my mind. I have to fight the sheer primal urge to tear our clothes off, push her back and bury myself hilt-deep inside her, right here in this storage closet.

I don't. I just want to, desperately, as her hand closes around me in my jeans, and I hear myself growl. Marisol pulls back a fraction of an inch.

"Was that noise-"

"Good, yes," I whisper and cover her mouth with mine again.

Her hand tightens. White heat slithers through my veins, and for the first time in at least ten years, I'm afraid I'm going to come in my pants.

And I'm not big on rules, but I've got at least one: ladies first.

I roll her nipples one last time, grab her hips, and pull her forward to the edge of the table. I unbutton her jeans. She bites my bottom lip between her teeth and I slide my hand beneath her knickers, over her mound, my fingers slipping between her folds.