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“To the question you’re asking. With your eyes. The answer is yes.”
Does she mean . . . ?
Her eyes answer the question that mine asked.
I close the distance between us.
Aside from holding her hand, I haven’t made a move on Ada all day. I wanted to kiss her a hundred times, but I also had no idea if she wanted me to, especially in public.
But we’re not in public now.
I reach for her, grabbing her neck with one hand and sliding my other hand up her shirt in the back, pulling her against me.
I’m not entirely sure how much she’s saying yes to, but a kiss seems an appropriate start. Our mouths come together, and at the touch of her tongue, I pull her closer. With my hand splayed against her back, I can feel her bra strap, but I don’t move to unclasp it. Not yet. Not without her permission.
Our kiss deepens, and when her hand slips between us, I’m too shocked at first to react. But those are definitely her fingers on the button of my shorts. And now she’s unzipping them.
Groaning against her mouth, I’m somehow still surprised as she springs me free and wraps her hand around my cock.
“Ada,” I grind out.
Instead of answering, she begins to stroke me, up and down, never taking her mouth off mine.
It’s the cue I need.
With a flick of my fingers, her bra is undone. I don’t want to wait another second, so I don’t. Pulling it up enough for access, I cup her breasts, bringing my forefingers and thumbs together to squeeze her nipples. Her moans of pleasure encourage me, and she’s still stroking me, but I have to stop her. Even if it kills me.
I need her to be sure.
“Ada.” Pulling my hands from her breasts, I reach down to tug her hand away.
She looks up at me with a questioning gaze, her lips still parted.
“If we do this, there’s no going back. Not for me, anyway. This is different for me. You’re different.”
She’s skeptical.
“You’ve been with plenty of women, I’m sure.”
Denying it would make me a liar, and I don’t ever want to lie to Ada.
“I have.”
My cock is screaming for her to touch it again, but I need to say this before we go any further. No matter how agonizing it feels.
“If you let me make love to you,” I say, “when we’re back in the city, I’ll be calling you. Visiting you. Taking you to dinner. We can be discreet, but we can’t go back to a strictly professional relationship.”
I’ve always been able to read people pretty well, so I’m fairly certain I know both her answer and what she’s planning.
Sure enough, Ada drops to her knees.
“You didn’t answer me,” I remind her through gritted teeth.
“Yes”—she runs a finger up my length, peering at me from under long, thick lashes—“I did.”
Without another word, she wraps her mouth around me. My hands rest on the top of her head, my fingers folding into her halo of silky hair as she begins the gentle assault.
“Holy hell.”
