“The one with a chimney on each side?” I said. “I love that one.”
“You do? I mean, you. Mr. Brooks Brothers designer preppy loves my old house? It’s painted brick. It has a drafty original fireplace with bookcases on each side and the floor slants a little to the east. I just can’t imagine someone so GQ liking something so down-home.”
“Maybe there’s more to me than meets the eye, Maggie,” I said, “and you’ll have to discover it.”
“Thank you for the ride. And for being a gentleman.”
“I asked you to spend the night with me. That’s not a gentleman, at least not in the sense I understand it.”
“You didn’t give me any shit about turning you down. You didn’t act like I owe you something.”
“You don’t. We’d have a good time together. Unforgettable, in fact. But not tonight. We barely know each other, and you’re not comfortable with that. Maybe it’s my job, or my cologne. Whatever it is, it’s your business. It doesn’t make me want you less. So being an ass about it would materially reduce my chances in the future.”
“Always the businessman,” she laughed, but there was relief in her voice, too.
“Since I’m posing as a gentleman tonight, let me open your door for you.”
I got out of the car and opened her door for her. She stepped out. Her full height was perfect, petite and curvy and the top of her head just below my chin.
I looked down at her and caught her gaze. It was dark with want and her eyes were hooded with heavy lids.
I ran my hands down her arms, took her hands in mine and held them. Then I laid her hands on my shoulders and took her in my arms, everything in hot, syrupy slow motion. Our eyes locked in the dim light from her porch as I dipped my head and my lips rubbed against hers. Just a sensuous rub, feeling the soft, plump texture of her yielding lips, how eager and sweet they tasted. I caught her bottom lip between mine and tugged just a little, locking lips with her, going slow. She raised up on tiptoe to get closer, her arms winding around my neck.
As I parted her lips, unhurried, in control of the kiss, I stole her breath. I felt that gasp, took the gasp into my own body as if to keep it forever. She took my tongue into her mouth with a sigh that seemed so satisfied that I hardened even more at the sound. I was giving her strokes of my tongue along hers, learning the curves of her mouth, and I was giving her exactly what she wanted.
This kiss seemed to go on forever, stoking the passion between us as I struggled, my iron control slipping. It was supposed to be a light, good night kiss, a sipping at her lips to taste her but not a deep, sexual drink. No matter how I tried to hold back, some primal instinct drew me in, pulled me down into darkness as my passion unleashed. I gripped her face, plundered her mouth with my tongue, felt the way her body loosened, opened for me. My knee pushed between her open thighs, giving her pressure where she wanted it. She rocked a little against my leg. When she did, that sweet rhythm of her hips grinding on me almost made me come in my pants like a teenager. It was agony. The best, most pleasurable agony of my life.
I let my hands slip down from her cheeks, sliding my fingers through her riot of red hair, combing her curls with my hands, gathering the locks in my hands like a live thing, using them to angle her head so I could go deeper with my kiss. She took it all, stroked her tongue along mine just as hungrily, ground against my thigh appreciatively as she enjoyed the friction in time with my tongue thrusting in her mouth.
It felt strange, intense, like I was doing more than kissing a woman I’d gone out for drinks with. What I wanted most was to taste the scream of my name on a wave of her orgasm. I was rigid, painfully hard as we kissed. I couldn’t even let myself imagine the relief of parting her thighs wide and sinking into her wet heat. I was barely holding on in the abyss of that kiss, and if I let myself fantasize even for a second, I knew I’d come. In fact, if she kept rocking against me, I might come anyway. I pulled back from her mouth, withdrew my knee from between her hot, strong thighs. She took a step toward me as I pulled away, her lips clinging to mine, her arms still around my neck. I stepped back another foot, rubbed my hands over my face. I was sure she could see the frown of concentration from reining in my desires. I was probably scowling with the effort.