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“I bet you’re sad you can’t see any statues out there,” he says, turning to face me with a big smile on his face. “You miss Ezekiel?”
“Absolutely not.” I lunge for him like I have no control over myself, throwing myself at him and tugging his head down so his mouth is on mine. “I missed you though.”
“I missed you too.”
We lose ourselves in the kiss, our tongues sliding against each other. He groans. I whimper. His hands are everywhere, mapping my body, trying to touch actual skin. Without hesitation, he slips his hands beneath my skirt, palming my panty-covered butt and I end the kiss, trying to catch my breath.
“Sorry,” he says, not sounding sorry at all. “I get you alone and this is all I can think about.”
“What exactly are you referring to?” I’m pretty confident I know what he means. I just need to hear him say it.
“Getting my hands on you. Stripping you naked.” His smile is sheepish. “But if you’re not ready for any of that …”
I step forward, clapping my hand over his mouth and silencing him. “I’m ready for it.”
When I drop my hand from his face he asks, “Are you sure?” Nodding, I go to my nightstand and pull open the top drawer, pulling out a box of condoms. “I’m fully prepared.”
The expression on his face tells me I shocked him. “Where did you get those?”
“Brooks. Well, Iris got them for me. When she told him they were for us, he gave her an entire box.”
Rhett doesn’t come closer. It’s almost as if he’s keeping away from me on purpose. “Are you sure, princess? We can do other stuff if you want.” His grin is wicked. “I’m always up for the other stuff too.”
I am as well, but …
“I’m ready.” My voice is soft. I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. “I mean, we need to lead up to it. I don’t think I want you to pounce.”
He smiles. Kisses me.
And then he pounces.
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Rhett
We end up on the bed together, Willow pinned beneath me, our mouths fused, my hands wandering all over her. I want to touch her, consume her, make her come, see that pleasure wash over her face when the orgasm hits her. I want all of it, right now, with Willow.
The day was torture. I feel like I’ve lived a thousand lives since I woke up this morning to a text from Westscott asking if we could “chat for a minute.” Everything that’s happened since has blown my mind. My parents were even here for a bit.
Wild.
Can’t think about any of that right now though. Not when I’ve got the girl of my dreams in my arms, her sexy as fuck body wiggling beneath mine. She’s still in her uniform, even the jacket, and I lift away from her, tugging on the sleeve.
“We need to get all of this off of you,” I demand.
She lifts up, contorting her body into awkward positions to get the jacket off and when she does, I’m flinging it onto the floor, diving in for another kiss while my hands fall to the front of her button-up shirt. With fumbling fingers, I undo each one, my fingers brushing against her skin, making her shiver. When I’ve finally got the shirt open, I pull away so I can look at her. How beautiful she is, her white, lacy bra barely containing her breasts. I trace a finger along her cleavage, slipping it beneath the fabric of her bra and she tilts her head back, her eyes falling closed.
“You’re gorgeous,” I whisper, mesmerized by the texture of her skin. I want to touch her for hours, learn every single little part of her.
Goosebumps rise on her skin when I run my finger along the lacy edge of her left bra cup, then the right. And when I slip my hand beneath her back and undo the clasp, she helps me get rid of it, hurriedly detangling the straps from her arms before she lies back onto the mattress, on full display for me.
Her rosy nipples are hard and I bend my head over her chest, licking at one, then giving the same treatment to the other. She whimpers, thrusting her chest upward, seeking more and I give it to her, sucking one nipple deep into my mouth, swirling my tongue around it before I gently clasp it in between my teeth and press down.
She hisses in a breath and I release it immediately, sucking and nibbling on her other nipple, dividing my attention equally between both breasts. I could do this for hours too, encouraged by her responsiveness. She likes it. She has to from the way she’s grabbing at the back of my head, her fingers tugging on my hair, holding me close to her. I run my hands down her sides to her legs, flipping the heavy wool material of her skirt up, gliding my fingers along her smooth, soft thighs and she automatically spreads them.
My girl knows what she wants. And I’m more than willing to give it to her.
Sliding down, I kiss her stomach. Along the waistband of her skirt, all while I’ve still got my hands beneath her skirt since the fabric fell back into place. I curl my fingers around the flimsy fabric of her panties, tugging on them before I slip my fingers into the front, encountering nothing but wet heat.
