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“Do you want me to say no?”
He studies me for a long moment, one where the seconds feel like minutes and I can feel the weight of each one before finally, “No. I don’t. I want to take you in the other room and find out if your mouth is as soft as it looks.”
“Well.” My lips quirk, and I reach to wind my arms around his neck. “What are you waiting for?”
Nothing, and I mean nothing—not years of want, not daydreams of the dizziest fashion, nothing—could prepare me for the way his mouth fits mine. He surges down to meet me in a way that matches the desperation I’m feeling, his hands reaching under my thighs and hoisting me up into his arms as if I don’t weigh a goddamned thing.
He makes a soft, hungry sound deep in his throat when I tease my tongue along his lower lip, letting them part as he sucks on it like it’s candy, making my toes curl. I distantly register that we’re moving, but barely, too consumed by the way his hands are drifting to palm my ass, the way he tilts his head to deepen the kiss like he can’t quite get enough.
I hear the creak of his bedroom door before the sharp slam of it as he kicks it shut behind us, and then I let out a surprised cry when he drops me into the middle of his bed. He only gives me a second to be caught off guard before he’s crawling over me, letting his body cover mine as his fingers tangle in my hair to cradle my nape.
He lifts his head, his rich, red hair falling around his face like a curtain and his eyes dark with lust in a way I don’t even think my wildest imagination could have ever gotten right, his throat bobbing with a swallow and his hips pressing against mine. “Is this okay?”
“Ian, I’ve wanted you to kiss me since training bras, remember? Fucking get down here.”
My hands curl over his shoulders to drag him back down to meet my mouth, closing my eyes and reveling in the sensations of his warm lips and his soft tongue and the tiny grunts that resound in his chest when I arch into him. His beard scratches against my skin lightly, making me wonder how it might feel elsewhere, which in turn makes me shiver. He’s still cradling my head with one hand, maneuvering me however he wants as he kisses me senselessly, but I feel his other hand press against my side, ghosting along my curves with gentle fingers as he maps the shape of me. Even through my clothes, his touch makes me shiver, makes me tilt my hips up to meet yet another surprise, one that I also could never have really imagined correctly.
Because Ian Chase is hard. He’s hard for me.
And I can see on his face the second that he realizes that I know it.
“Sorry,” he rasps, his lips still resting against mine. “Can’t help it.”
“Oh?” My mouth curves into a sly grin, and I roll my hips just for fun. “You can’t?”
“Fuck, Lila.”
His large hand applies pressure to my waist, effectively pinning me against the bed as his eyes flutter closed. His breath leaves him shakily as he grinds down against me, drawing out a quiet moan from my throat as tingles spread through my belly.
“You like that, sweet girl?”
Oh wow. My imagination should be fired for never offering up that little gem.
I lift my leg to press my thigh to his hip, bringing him closer. “Do it again.”
“Greedy,” he murmurs, swiveling his hips so I can feel every delicious inch of him rubbing between my legs. “Like that?”
“Feels good,” I groan. “Would feel better without all the layers.”
He does it again, and my legs wrap around his hips like they have a mind of their own.
“Lila,” he says in a sigh, almost like a prayer. His face burrows into my neck, his tongue flicking out to taste me, his clothed cock still grinding in a way that might drive me insane. “You always smell so sweet. You fucking taste sweet. I want to taste you everywhere.” His hand snakes between us, and I gasp when I feel the heat of his fingers sliding against the denim between my legs. “Especially here.”
The mental image of Ian’s head between my thighs makes goose bumps crop up over my entire body, a needy sound escaping me as I tilt my hips up to meet his next slow thrust. Ian shakes against me, his breath leaving him in a ragged pant.
“Gonna make me come in my pants like a fucking teenager,” he grunts.
“Mm.” I let my fingers tease through the ends of his hair, tugging it and forcing a soft moan from his lips. “Honestly, with as many times as I’ve come in my pants while thinking about you, it feels pretty fair.”
Ian shivers. “You really are a brat, aren’t you.”
“Oh, you have no idea,” I practically purr, kissing one corner of his mouth. “What are you going to do about it?”
“I can think of several things,” he says roughly, hissing when my teeth scrape over his earlobe.
“Gonna punish me, Ian?”
“Jesus.” His big body shudders, and I feel a rush of excitement flood through me. “Are you looking to get punished, Lila?”
