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With his large hands.
That were recently causing so many involuntary reactions as he explored my body.
And barely anything happened that was skin-on-skin. Hell, most of what he did to make me almost lose my mind was on top of this gigantic sweatshirt. But between what his fingers were doing and that mouth of his, he can spend all the time he’d like studying my responses.
Something about him gets me out of my head and puts me in the moment, allowing me to be fully present without constantly wondering what I’m doing wrong or what I’m going to have to fake to make sure he’s happy. No, Tommy Landen watches, feels, and hears every little thing my body does and it pulls out more from me. It was like he was trying an experiment three different ways to see how the results differed with one small tweak.
And it was sexy as hell.
The cuffs of my sleeves hang past my palms, so I bunch the fabric in my fists and bring it to my nose, needing to know if it smells like whatever he puts in his hair.
Tommy catches me just when I know it not only smells like his hair, but like him, too. He gives me a curious look as the dishwasher door clicks shut. In two steps, he’s right in front of me, gently weaving his fingers through mine, kissing my knuckles on each hand before lowering them and wrapping them behind my back so he’s holding me.
“No hiding,” he whispers.
I could correct him and tell him I was trying to figure out if I could spend the night smelling not only like cedar and garlic, but that intriguing fresh scent that’s in his hair. Instead, I opt for not hiding myself because I feel embarrassed from having the level of patience of a mosquito, to be able to wait to sniff my clothes. So, I repeat his words and tug his hands farther away from my back causing him to flatten me against the edge of the counter. I lift up onto my toes and it’s as if we’re magnetically drawn to each other now that we’ve kissed. We don’t wait for anything and we’re both more than ready.
He shifts our hands so he’s holding both of mine in one of his and my heartbeat, which had only recently normalized, starts picking up the pace. I expect the other to go back into my hair, so he can tangle his fingers into it, but instead, he grips the spot that’s not quite butt, not quite hip, and he deepens our kiss. It’s almost as if he’s pulling me tighter against him, but the only way we could get closer is if we weren’t wearing clothes.
Once more, I find myself excited and completely turned on by the idea of letting Tommy explore my body and of us being together. I think the last time I was this excited was back in high school before learning where most guys zero-in, and more importantly, where they don’t. But this is the man who pulls out his own notebook at a happy hour so I could write my ideas down. This is the man who dared me to allow him the chance to clean up after our first non-date. This is the man whose only concern tonight was making sure I was comfortable. He doesn’t run, he doesn’t mansplain, he doesn’t assume. He stays, he listens, and he asks.
He sees me.
The real me. The one with systems in place and instead of mocking me, he checks to see how I do things. He pays attention to details and remembers the little things. He makes things better, easier. He kisses me like I’m the most beautiful woman on the planet and he’s the luckiest guy to be here.
And he tastes like my favorite ice cream right now.
I’m not sure how long he has me pinned before his hand loosens its hold and he lets it drag up my side, slowing at my breast but not changing course. He spreads his fingers out between my jaw and my collarbone. His thumb takes its time rubbing its way across my chin so he can hold my face totally in place.
Not one coherent thought is left in my body in this instance. His ability to take control has me wanting to know more, to experience more.
I must make a sound because he chuckles against my mouth, sending a shiver through me. The way his chest rumbles when he does that shouldn’t make my toes curl, but it does and they do.
“Think you can hold on until tomorrow, cowgirl?”
“There you go calling me a cowgirl again,” I say. “I haven’t ridden anything yet.”
I’m so wrapped up in him and this moment, that I completely miss how that could be interpreted until he says, “I think we’ll have you riding like a pro sooner than you think.”
If panties could spontaneously combust into flames, mine would have at this very moment.
“You’re very confident,” I say, his hands still holding me right where he wants me.
He gives me a grin. “I’m confident you’re going to enjoy the experience.”
“Are we still talking about horseback riding?” I ask.
That grin turns downright mischievous. “Nope.”
Tommy leans down and nips at my bottom lip and kisses me so thoroughly that I’m grateful the counter is behind me to hold me up. My knees feel like they’re about to give out and my skin tingles. But then he releases my neck and his hand trails down the side of my breast before he sighs. He rests his forehead against mine.
After a moment, he shifts so our arms are around each other and I’m tucked against him, my head resting against his collar bone. We stand there, just holding onto one another and my eyes drift close. I’m not sure the last time I’ve felt this at home with someone.
But then his pocket vibrates. He makes a disgruntled sound as I loosen my hold on him.
“You should see who it is.”
His hand disappears into his pocket and the screen of his phone is lit up when he pulls it out. Avery’s name appears in his notification. He opens it and almost snorts. Turning the phone around, he shows me a group chat.
