It was precisely the kind of pep-talk I needed, and not a minute too soon when I heard the knock on my door, signaling his arrival.
Fuck. I hadn’t thought to change my underwear. I mentally catalogued what I was wearing that day and swore again.
“Let me in,” he said against the door, his voice low. Shivering from the way his words excited me, I took five long strides to the door and twisted the handle open.
His eyes latched on mine immediately, the steel blue warmed from his concentration. He had his hands braced on either side of the door frame, leaning in enough to bring his after shave, something spicy and sinful, into my air.
I was nervous, something I didn’t expect. When I’d brought him home the first night, after the bar, it had been dark. Now it wasn’t even three in the afternoon, illuminating not only the melancholy state of my apartment, but also—and more startling—me. Under the cloak of the darkness, I’d felt sexy, powerful. In the bright light of the day, with this man I wanted down to my marrow, I felt transparent; a big fat phony.
“Come in,” I said, tucking my hair behind my ear. He walked past me and I placed my palms flat on the door, closing it slowly. Without turning around, I closed my eyes a beat, imagining him taking in my apartment.
“I … uh, haven’t been here long,” I began, still not turning around. “I’ve been meaning to add more, but seeing as it’s just me—”
Before I could finish the thought, I felt him at my back, the heat emanating from his body so all-consuming that I forgot what I was going to say. I waited, my blood a thunder in my ears, for him to do something. Anything. To touch me, to turn me around, to tell me to stop talking.
But he didn’t need to tell me to stop talking; my body shut the hell up as soon he invaded my air space. I turned my head slightly over my left shoulder, wanting to see his face out of the corner of my eye, but then I felt his fingers on my right shoulder. Just the tips, pushing gently into my flesh, tapping slowly down my shoulder to my arm, as if he was playing piano scales on my skin.
Another hand came up, pushing my hair over my left shoulder. His fingers brushed my back as he pushed all the hair away and I nearly trembled. Just from the brush of his fingers.
His lips pressed a kiss to the spot where my neck met my back, his mouth warming a trail down my spine. This was tenderer than I was expecting and it was throwing me off.
“Nathan…” but I didn’t finish.
“Shh,” he murmured against my back, rubbing the lightest stubble over my skin. His hands came to my hips, teasing the skin above my jeans with his thumbs. His fingers wrapped around my hips, sliding under my tank and brushing my lower belly with gentle strokes.
He leaned in, his front against my back and I pushed back, needing the pressure. Gripping more tightly to my hips, he squeezed and put a little distance between us. It was a long, slow tease, one that was beginning to make me squirm in my own skin.
He kissed the side of my neck he’d pushed the hair from. Soft, open mouth kisses raining from my ear to where my neck met shoulder.
“Nathan…” I didn’t know what to do with slow, with soft. I wanted hard, fast, biting, punishing sex.
“I know.” He said it against my ear lobe, humming the last word right against my cartilage. Again, I squirmed, trying to push harder against him, but was halted with a sharp bite to my lobe.
The jolt caused my head to fall back onto his left shoulder, feeling the bite down to my core. One of his hands left my hips to wrap gently around my neck, rotating my face to his. I finally met his eyes, saw the restraint in them. He knew exactly what he was doing, warming me up to his touch. I watched his eyes move to my mouth, felt his finger pulling down on my lower lip. When the finger let go, his lips descended, finally, thankfully, making contact with my own. The kiss began slowly, with him tasting my lips. God, the man could kiss. His tongue tracing the seam of my lips made me shudder, melting back against him. I brought a hand to his neck, holding him as he explored my mouth with the lightest touch.
He pulled away, but didn’t let go. “Are you ready?” he asked.
Confused, I furrowed my brow. “Ready?”
His eyes narrowed, his hand ran down my chest, brushing against the curve of my breast but not lingering. “We’re not going to stop this time,” he growled.
Fuck. Full on body shudder. I had the sudden urge to squeeze my thighs together, but he still held me so firmly in place that I couldn’t move. There was something uniquely rousing about being at his mercy, at bowing to the demands of his hands. Unable to answer lest I squeak the word, I merely nodded.