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When I remain quiet, Alice lowers her hands, her eyes going wide as she watches me inch closer. Lean in.
‘Thomas?’
I brace for the usual internal recriminations. For anger to bubble up. Anger at myself for not being able to control myself. Anger at Alice for making me yearn for things I shouldn’t want.
But none of that happens.
When I kiss her, I feel not an ounce of regret.
I just feel Alice.
* * *
Alice
Thomas shifts closer, his lips firm against mine, his tongue tracing the seam of my mouth. And when I open for him, my earlier embarrassment fades as I taste winter fresh toothpaste and his desire.
His kiss softens before he pulls back, his eyes searching mine. ‘Am I being too sexually aggressive?’
There’s a smile in his voice. But instead of being annoyed or flustered over him repeating my earlier words, it melts my heart.
Thomas Moore is not playful. Yet, he is with me.
I flex my toes under the covers, trying to find the courage I had after too many drinks in Vegas. ‘I wouldn’t call that aggressive.’
He smiles and even without a light I feel as if the whole room brightens.
‘Is that so?’ One moment we’re face to face, the next I’m on my back, arms stretched overhead, one of his legs thrown over mine, locking me in place. ‘How about now?’ One side of his mouth kicks up.
On top of being endearing, playful Thomas is very, very sexy.
With the hand not holding my wrists, he pushes my shirt up under my chin. The flirtation-ness fades from his eyes as he gazes at my breasts. I squirm, worried over their size, but his hand and leg hold me in place.
‘Beautiful.’ Serious Thomas is back.
His fingers trail down between the small peaks, over my stomach and under the elastic waistband of my panties.
Too caught up in feeling to become self-conscious, I undulate against his whisper-like touches sliding easily over the soft skin, wet with my arousal. Closing my eyes, the sound of my desire on his slickened fingers is sharper in the otherwise quiet room. My legs start to shake.
Slowly, Thomas slides one finger inside. The sound of my moan echoes in the room. And when his finger curls inside me, hitting a spot only I’ve ever been able to find, I whimper.
‘Alice.’ His thumb circles my clit.
My eyes roll back in my head as the pressure builds inside. ‘Thomas.’ His name a plea as I rock my hips, my body searching for release.
His mouth finds the pulse at my neck. Small kisses, gentle nibbles all while sensations scream inside my head.
Until it’s not inside anymore. Until spasms rack my body. Until I’m near crying from release as he propels the orgasm on and on by holding his palm to my clit while his finger continues beckoning inside me.
When the shaking stops and reality returns, I’m not awkward or embarrassed. I’m not even exhausted or satiated.
I want more.
Flickers of the woman I was in Vegas come to life, but this time clear-headed.
Hands now free, I cup the sides of his face, bringing it closer to mine, capturing his lips as he did mine at the start.
Despite my intentions, he holds back. ‘We don’t need to do anything. It’s fine. I’m fine.’
