Page 81 of The Stranger

“I know what chat is,” she whispers, her body chasing my touch.

“Then you should also know I want to eat it. Lick it. Suck on it until it’s shiny and slick and you’re writhing under me.”

“We don’t even get along.” This time, her words are almost all moan.

“Maybe that’s part of the magic.”

“God, I hope not. I don’t want to spend my life having sex with men I don’t like.”

“You like me,” I whisper, pressing my lips to her neck as I slide my thumbs along the inside of her thighs. “More than you care to admit.”

“You’re delusional,” she says, tipping her head back as though to deny the way she slightly opens her legs. “And this is a very bad idea.”

“Not true.”

“We shouldn’t—” Her body makes a pre-emptive motion, and my mouth begins to move before engaging my brain.

“If I can’t make you come, you can leave.” Her body jolts, her eyes a fiery flash as she pulls back a touch.

“Say that again.”

I don’t immediately answer as I slide my thumb across her luscious bottom lip, peeling it open a little. Her breath hitches. “If I can’t make your eyes roll to the back of your head.” I lick the seam. “If I can’t make you explode on my tongue a second time, right here, right now.” I deliver a teasing kiss. “You can go back to your life. To your vacation.” My words, my lips taunt. “And we won’t ever speak of what’s passed between us. Not to each other. Not to Emmy.

But when I do make you come.” I pull back a touch, and her body twists to mine like a flower seeking the sun. “When you’re wrung out and spent, and I’m wearing your scent like it’s my new cologne, you will stay for the whole month.”

Gambling is a fool’s pastime, unless you know the deck is stacked.

“A month,” she says with a soft, sensual laugh. “I already agreed to that.”

“But I want no more sullenness. And when I disprove your hypothesis, and if you’re a good little girl,”—I ignore the violent roll of her eyes—“I’ll show you all the ways you’re not broken by making you come again and again.”

“You’re absurd.” Yet her foot hooks behind me and slides up my thigh. Her softly pouting mouth is a provocation. The softening of her body is an invitation.

“Absurdly hard.” I tilt her back, pressing my lips once more to her neck. “Just as you’re wet for me now. Aching,” I add in a whisper, feathering kisses to her soft skin.

“You’re joking.” Her eyes are dark as she puts her hand to my chest. “Right?”

“I want you, Primrose. I’ve wanted you from the moment I set eyes on you, and every day since. The only thing that’s changed is that I don’t want to fight it any longer.”

21

PRIMROSE

I’m good, or I strive to be. But I’m neither little nor a girl. I also don’t understand why I’d allow him to call me such a thing. Or understand why my insides turned to marshmallow fluff when he did.

“Give me your mouth.”

Um, okay. W—wait. O, my God!

Every kiss I’ve had in my life was wrong. I know that now.

We kiss for eons, it feels like. Galaxies are made and destroyed in the time he takes exploring my mouth. Darkness moves to daylight, weeks to months, seasons then years, all passing in a blissful, soft porn moaning haze.

His tongue swirls the shell of my ear, and he slides wet open-mouthed kisses down my neck. As an encore, his lips find my nipple over the fabric of my T-shirt.

“Beautiful, Primrose.” Butterfly light, his fingers trail down my spine, before grasping my hips as though to slow himself down. “You make me so hard.”

He flexes into me and my stomach somersaults.