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“Okay, I’ll call for a pizza. I’m really good at that.”
He laughed. “That would be great. I haven’t eaten since… I don’t remember, actually.”
She tsked at him. “You know better than that. How can you even concentrate on an empty stomach?”
“Maybe that’s why nothing is making sense.”
“I’ll go order that pizza.” She kissed his cheek, and with a little sashay of her hips, headed out the door. He stared after her long after she was gone. His mind kept drifting to her, so he put his pencil down and went to the kitchen.
Isla hung up the phone and turned to him with a smile. “Pizza will be here in twenty minutes.”
“What should we do until then?” he asked.
She came to him, wrapping her arms around his neck. “Whole house to ourselves. I can think of a few things.”
He dipped his head, capturing her lips in a heated kiss. She kissed him with the same amount of passion. Not wasting anytime, he picked her up and carried her to the couch. He sat down and she straddled him, never letting their mouths part.
Her body rocked against his, and he bit back the desires running through him. They’d been here so many times. Hot and heavy. Their kisses turning more desperate with each move of their lips. They were both still virgins, holding out for when the moment was right. He thought every moment was right, but Isla wanted to wait still, and he respected that. He would never rush her, and he would wait for however long she needed.
Many nights he suffered a bad case of blue balls, but the pain was worth it. Kissing Isla was his own personal Utopia filled with joy and pleasure.
Her fingers slid beneath his shirt and he bucked at the cold press of her hands on his skin.
She laughed. “Sorry.”
“Never.” He kissed her harder as her hands ran up and down his abs. His pants tightened as his erection became impossibly hard.
He eased away, framing her face with his fingers and running his thumb across her kiss-swollen lips. “We should stop.”
She pouted, which was incredibly adorable. He nipped her lip, and she smiled, swatting at his chest before dipping her head and kissing him again.
Pleasure and desire mixed together, making it impossible for him to focus on anything other than the soft feel of Isla’s touch, her intoxicating scent that filled his senses and the torturous grind of her hips. He knotted his fingers in her blonde strands and thrust his tongue against hers.
“We need to stop,” he said, forcing himself to pull his mouth from hers. He dragged his tongue down the curve of her neck, loving how the single action caused her to moan. The moan was his undoing, and before he made a mess in his pants, he thought about random basketball stats.
She met his eyes, and the stats vanished. All he could focus on was her droopy, desire filled gaze.
She cupped his jaw. “I don’t want to stop.”
“You know we have to.”
She rested a hand on his chest. “I’m ready.”
His eyes widened, and his head flung back, hitting the couch. “Ready? As in ready?”
A beautiful smile cracked the corner of her lips, and she nodded. “I don’t want to stop.”
A knock at the door echoed through the house, and Isla sighed. She went to climb off of him, and he clamped down on her sides. “Oh no, you are not walking away.”
“But the pizza is here.”
“Fuck the pizza.”
“You need to eat.”
“You just told me you’re ready to have sex. The last thing I care about is food.”
Another knock reverberated through the house. “Pizza!” The delivery man called from outside.
