Cash asked, “Shouldn’t you be defending your husband’s honor about now?”
The wine kept her from coming up with a defense for her fictional husband. It fuzzed around her head until her fingers curled around the back of Cash’s neck, and she pulled him that last fraction of an inch to her lips.
He grabbed her lips with his. His arms wrapped around her, around her shoulders and around her waist, and he pulled her against his chest and abs, locking her against him. Her arm slipped around his neck. Her other hand splayed on his chest, feeling the rounded muscle in her palm.
His lips felt as soft as the other night, but this time, his hands roamed over her body. He sucked gently at her lips, nipping, and his tongue stroked over hers. His hand dropped, and he gripped her ass, shoving her hard against him.
He lifted his head. She tried to keep kissing him, but he peeled her off with his arm around her shoulders. His mouth found her neck, and he scraped his teeth over her throat and breathed on her moist skin, making her shiver.
In seconds, she was panting and arching her neck, trying to get closer to him, to get more of him. It had been so many months since a man had touched her, and she had been too near Cash all that time.
A whisper of cologne, warm spices and musk, lingered on his skin, and she breathed him in.
Cash sat backwards on the couch, and his strong arms hauled Rox with him. She twisted and ended up with her legs straddling his thighs, standing on her knees. They were both wearing jeans, but she was essentially open to him, the bulge in his pants directly below her spread legs. If she lowered herself, her clit would rub right on him.
He surged forward, gathering her to him and shoving her tee shirt up to her armpits and then over her head. It flopped on the carpet somewhere. He was so tall that he had to bend to run his lips over the tops of her boobs, his breath warm and humid on her cleavage and the swells above her lacy, pink bra.
Yeah, she had been wearing the good lingerie, and she had bought more since she had moved in with Cash. Her subconscious had been planning this for weeks.
“Wow,” he whispered, grasping her breasts, almost kneading them, one in each hand.
He had probably never felt real ones before. After all, they lived in California.
Cash held her tits, his palms and fingers full of her skin, and lifted them to his mouth. His lips and tongue started gently, drawing silken lines around her nipples through the thin lace while he held the weight of them, and then he opened his mouth, sucking her in.
Ripples started in her body, flowing outward.
He opened his mouth, breathing on the wet fabric and her skin.
Rox felt like she was tumbling and falling, speeding out of control. “Cash,” she gasped.
“Hell, yes. Say it again.” He used his thumbs to flip aside the lace of her bra cups and licked her nipples, suckling them into hard peaks.
Rox curled down over his head, standing on her knees, holding onto his shoulders, and gasping while he rolled his tongue around one nipple and the other and then sucked her hard. Her breath roughened, panting.
She didn’t want to ask where this was going. She didn’t want to know.
He stroked down her body to her ass and pulled her harder against himself while he lipped and tongued her tits. He cinched one arm around her waist, holding her tightly. With his other hand, he popped the clasp on her bra behind her back, dragged it down her arms, and tossed it aside, too.
Her body was winding up, just from his mouth on her breasts. Her breath caught in her throat, and she whimpered.
Cash glanced up at her, and he cracked a grin with his mouth still around her nipple, baring his teeth. He sucked her tit into his mouth and gently bit her.
Waves rolled through Rox, and she arched backward.
His arm around her waist held her to him, and he grabbed her other tit with his mouth and drove her crazy with sucking and biting that one, too.
God, she was ready to beg him to take her, and she couldn’t. Too many things swirled in her head, all the reasons she shouldn’t, not being able to work with him again, and that he would ghost her and disappear from her life as surely as if he had died.
She couldn’t stop that tortured whimper, though, and she clutched his broad shoulders and his head to her, almost crying out.
His arm tightened around her waist, and she was falling to the side. She flopped on her back on the couch and grabbed her head. Everything was spinning so fast around her, but she could tell that it wasn’t the wine that was dizzying her. It was Cash, and his hands and mouth on her body, and the spice of his faint cologne and the way his hair fell over his forehead and the fuzzy abandon in his bright green eyes.
He scrambled over her, grabbing at the fly of her jeans and skinning them off her in one fluid move, taking her underwear and fuzzy socks with them.