“I think this is the moment in the script where the heroine invites the hero to spend the night,” I said.
He hitched in a breath. “It’s only afternoon,” he said, his voice hot against my skin.
“Late afternoon,” I amended.
He ran the pad of his thumb across my top lip, and I shivered. “Then this is the moment where the hero says yes.”
He lifted my chin and dropped his mouth to mine. We kissed for many minutes that folded into themselves, and in the span of the kiss, I didn’t think about money or medical school or pictures. I didn’t linger on a single thing except his lips, and his hair, and his hands, and the astonishing closeness of his body.
He pulled away for a second. “Let’s go now. I want the rest of the night to start immediately.”
We put on helmets and he rode behind me all the way to my apartment.
We started on the couch. For the simplest of reasons. The bedroom was too far away. As soon as we tumbled through the door, his hands were on my waist and slinking under my shirt, and my breath was already coming fast. I tugged him down on me on the couch, thrilling at the way his long, strong body felt on top of mine. Of course, I already knew how he felt on top of me, but now I was going to know the feel of him in a whole new way, and goosebumps rose on my skin with the anticipation.
His lips found mine once more and he kissed me hungrily, making the sexiest groans as he nibbled on my lips and then explored my mouth. When we pulled apart for air, I pressed my hands to his chest and looked at him. “I think you’re addicted to kissing me,” I said playfully.
“So unbelievably addicted to kissing you,” he said, a wicked glint in his eyes, as he bent his head to my neck, blazing a trail of kisses up to my ear. “I want to kiss you in other places,” he said, his ravenous words making my stomach flip.
“Where?” I asked, knowing the answer, but dying to hear it from him.
“Between your legs. I’m dying to taste you,” he said with a heady groan as he lowered his hand to my jeans and palmed me where I was hot for him. In an instant, I responded, his touch heating me up more. I rocked into his hand.
“I want that, William. I want that so much,” I said, my breathing already speeding up to a wild pace.
“Let me take your clothes off,” he said, his voice barren against the silence of the apartment. That’s when it hit me—a little mood music would be nice.
“Hold on,” I said as he unzipped my jeans, and I twisted to reach for my phone on the table.
“Shall I smile for the camera? Are you going to take a shot of me undressing you?”
I cracked up as I scrolled through the music. “Count that as a never,” I said, finding Matt Nathanson quickly and firing up a playlist. As the sexy pop music played, William grinned that devilish grin of his as he skimmed off my jeans.
“Matt Nathanson,” he said, shaking his head. “He’s catnip for women.”
“He is. But I’m going to let you in on a secret. You were getting lucky before I even turned him on.”
“Excellent. Now I will continue turning you on,” he said, and reached for my shirt, pulling it off me, then unhooked my bra, whistling low under his breath as my breasts tumbled free.
“I can’t resist,” he whispered, cupping my breasts and burying his face between them. Gasping loudly under his touch, my back bowed and I threaded my hands in his hair. I arched into him as he took his time lavishing attention, each sweet lick from his tongue sending a new round of desire crashing through my body. I closed my eyes, giving in to the moment, to the pleasure, to the intensity of his touch. He was catnip to me, and I was under some kind of spell, buzzed from the way he kissed and caressed, both tender and hungry. William made me feel wanted, and he made me want to let go for him, which was no easy feat for this control freak. I pulled him closer as he explored my flesh, sending hot sparks all through me. Soon he began inching his way down my body, trailing his tongue underneath the swell of my breasts to my belly. Then he licked an agonizingly sweet trail down my skin, past my belly button, and right to the top of my panties, where he flicked his tongue along the waistband and murmured, “These need to come off.”
“They do,” I moaned, tilting my hips to him. Gently, slowly, as if he was memorizing every single second of the undressing, he lowered my panties down my legs, moaning appreciatively when he saw me revealed to him for the first time. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous, Jess,” he said, and then tore them off the rest of the way. “I can’t wait.”