Only You
Page 17
I shook my head, a strand of hair coming loose from my bun. “I’d never have done that.”
“I know.” He tucked the strand behind my ear and moved his hand to the back of my neck. His eyes dropped to my lips. “But I would have deserved it.”
I held my breath. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion. His forehead came to rest on mine. And then our noses touched. Our eyes closed. An eternity passed, his lips a whisper from mine. Either one of us could have initiated a kiss. A slight lift of my chin. A little drop of his head. The question—will we or won’t we?—hung there between us, even as his closed lips brushed mine, eyelash soft.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around his neck and fit my body flush against his, but my wrists lay inert on the edge of the sink. Suddenly he spoke, his breath warm against my mouth.
“You know that dream you have, the one where you really want to do something, you’re desperate to do something, but you’re paralyzed?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I think I’m having that dream right now.”
“Me too.” And then I felt it, the gentle pressure at the back of my neck, pulling my head toward him.
It was all I needed. Our mouths came together firmly this time, our lips opening, and I angled my body toward his, throwing my arms around his neck. His hands explored my back while his tongue explored my mouth, and he backed me into the corner, his hips pinning mine against the hard stone counter. He kissed with a fervor and intensity that surprised me, his mouth traveling down my neck, his fingers threading through my hair, pulling the pins loose, his body giving off heat that mine hungrily absorbed. I wanted to get closer to him, wished I could feel his skin against mine. I rose up on tiptoe to press against him, my back arching to fit the question mark curve of his body.
He felt big and strong and reassuring, exactly how I wanted him to feel. I wasn’t even sure what it was I wanted reassurance about… My desirability? Our chemistry? Something new and different happening between us? He swept his lips to the other side of my throat, a necklace of soft, insistent kisses that warmed my blood. When his mouth returned to mine, the kiss grew hot and frantic. He reached down and hiked the hem of my skirt to my waist, and I immediately jumped up, wrapping my legs around him. His hands moved under my ass and he carried me like that into the living room, never lifting his mouth off mine. When he reached the couch, he knelt on it and tipped me backward, stripping off his shirt and stretching out above me.
My hands moved lightning fast over hot skin, solid muscle. Chest and arms and back—I couldn’t get enough. His hand stole beneath the T-shirt I wore and I arched my back so he could reach underneath me and unclasp my bra, then moaned softly at the feel of his palm over my breasts. Moving down, he shoved the shirt and bra up to my neck and put his mouth on me, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, my nipples hardening into tight little peaks that begged to be licked, sucked, teased, tortured.
What are we doing? What are we doing? What are we doing? screamed a voice in my head.
I ignored it, hooking my arms beneath his and pulling him up so I could kiss him again. I didn’t care what we were doing.
It felt way too good to stop.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Six
Nate
My conscience had tried. It had talked to me as we stood there by the sink.
Don’t touch her, it said.
Don’t kiss her, it warned.
Don’t let her get too close.
And I tried, I swear to God I tried to listen. I fought the urge. I told myself no for lots of good reasons.
She was my friend. She was my neighbor. She was someone whose well-being I genuinely cared about. She was a good, generous person helping me out. Beyond that, she trusted me. Trust was something I didn’t take lightly, didn’t offer easily, and didn’t want to accept if I hadn’t earned it.
But I couldn’t resist her.
One kiss, I’d told myself as my lips hovered tantalizingly close to hers. One kiss to see what it was like. One kiss to satisfy the craving for her. One kiss to show her what it meant to me that she was here, that she cared, that she believed in me. I wasn’t good with words, not those kinds of words anyway, but I could communicate my gratitude with a kiss, couldn’t I? And she wanted me to kiss her. I knew she did. I could tell by the way she was holding her breath and standing so still. It would be okay this one time, right? We’d probably laugh about this later.
One kiss. And then we would stop.
Needless to say, that’s not how it went down.
Five minutes after I put my lips on hers for the first time, we were horizontal on the couch and I was trying to reenact my dream from this morning and give it a better ending. Clearly I had way, way overestimated my willpower and underestimated her effect on me, from the scent of her hair to the taste of her skin to the feel of her chest against mine. Her breasts, small but perfectly plump, with sweet little raspberry nipples, drove me wild. Her perfume smelled like summer.
I bet she tastes like summer too. Like those strawberries right off the vine we used to pick when we were kids. The sweetest, juiciest, most luscious strawberries in the world.
I wanted that flavor on my tongue right the fuck now.
In three seconds flat, I’d slid down her body, hiked up her skirt and moved her underwear aside. At the first stroke she moaned aloud, then clapped both hands over her mouth. The more she struggled to stay silent, the more difficult I made the task. I clamped my hands on the outsides of her thighs, pinning her legs in place so she couldn’t get away from my mouth. I got to my knees, hauling her lower body up with me so I could watch her while I worked her into a frenzy, her eyes wild and pleading above the hands that muffled her cries. I used every trick I had—long, lazy strokes up the middle with the flat of my tongue; quick, light flutters across her clit with the tip; swirling circles that made her eyes roll back in her head; fast, hard flicks as I sucked her into my mouth; long, low moans with my mouth sealed to her pussy. In no time at all, she was bucking beneath me, her legs locked around my neck, her head twisting from side to side.
And she was not silent.
She wasn’t even quiet.
Her cries filled the room, bounced off the walls, shook the floor. I loved every fucking second of it. I felt like a million bucks. I might not know how to be a dad, but goddamn, I knew how to make a woman come.
And I was just getting started.
I let her wilted legs drop and reached for my belt.
“Oh my God.” Emme’s eyes opened halfway. She was breathing hard. “That was—”
A shrill, piercing wail cut her off.
No.
Emme looked at the monitor. I looked toward the stairs.
The keening seemed to surround us.
Oh, no.
We looked at each other in disbelief. Blinked.
“Maybe she’ll go back to sleep,” I said, my hands paused on my zipper.
“Maybe.”
But the crying continued, and the spell was broken.
What the hell were we doing, anyway?
As we stared at each other, it dawned on us what we’d been about to do. What we’d done.
“Um,” Emme started.
“Oops,” I finished.
“Yeah. We should maybe—”
“Right.”
Quickly and silently, we put ourselves back together. Emme pulled down her skirt as I put on my shirt. She scooped up her bra from the floor while I zipped and buttoned my pants. Paisley continued to howl.
“I’ll get her,” I said, heading for the stairs.
“Okay.”
My heart was still pounding as I went up. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’d kissed Emme. I’d given her an orgasm with my tongue. I’d nearly fucked her.
How had that even happened? One second I’d been standing there watching her do the dishes, thinking about how pretty she looked, what a good friend she was, how much I appreciated her, and the next my mouth was closing over hers.
That was the last thing I remembered.
Inside my bedroom, I carefully took Paisley from the sleeper and cradled her in my arms. She was restless and fidgety, her arms moving all over the place, but her eyes were closed, leading me to believe I could get her back to sleep. It had only been an hour or so since her last feeding anyway. If I was going to get her on some kind of regular schedule, which all the books suggested, I had to be a little more disciplined about it. There was a pacifier in the sleeper, and I grabbed it, figuring I would give it another try. Holding her stomach against my chest so I could keep one of her arms in place, I fit the pacifier in her mouth and gently held it there, praying she would get the hang of it and like it. She tried to spit it out at first, but then began to suck on it. I thought for sure she would get mad there was no food in it, but she didn’t. She kept it in her mouth and stayed quiet, and gradually I felt her little body relax.
“I know.” He tucked the strand behind my ear and moved his hand to the back of my neck. His eyes dropped to my lips. “But I would have deserved it.”
I held my breath. Things seemed to be happening in slow motion. His forehead came to rest on mine. And then our noses touched. Our eyes closed. An eternity passed, his lips a whisper from mine. Either one of us could have initiated a kiss. A slight lift of my chin. A little drop of his head. The question—will we or won’t we?—hung there between us, even as his closed lips brushed mine, eyelash soft.
I wanted nothing more than to wrap my arms around his neck and fit my body flush against his, but my wrists lay inert on the edge of the sink. Suddenly he spoke, his breath warm against my mouth.
“You know that dream you have, the one where you really want to do something, you’re desperate to do something, but you’re paralyzed?”
“Yes,” I whispered.
“I think I’m having that dream right now.”
“Me too.” And then I felt it, the gentle pressure at the back of my neck, pulling my head toward him.
It was all I needed. Our mouths came together firmly this time, our lips opening, and I angled my body toward his, throwing my arms around his neck. His hands explored my back while his tongue explored my mouth, and he backed me into the corner, his hips pinning mine against the hard stone counter. He kissed with a fervor and intensity that surprised me, his mouth traveling down my neck, his fingers threading through my hair, pulling the pins loose, his body giving off heat that mine hungrily absorbed. I wanted to get closer to him, wished I could feel his skin against mine. I rose up on tiptoe to press against him, my back arching to fit the question mark curve of his body.
He felt big and strong and reassuring, exactly how I wanted him to feel. I wasn’t even sure what it was I wanted reassurance about… My desirability? Our chemistry? Something new and different happening between us? He swept his lips to the other side of my throat, a necklace of soft, insistent kisses that warmed my blood. When his mouth returned to mine, the kiss grew hot and frantic. He reached down and hiked the hem of my skirt to my waist, and I immediately jumped up, wrapping my legs around him. His hands moved under my ass and he carried me like that into the living room, never lifting his mouth off mine. When he reached the couch, he knelt on it and tipped me backward, stripping off his shirt and stretching out above me.
My hands moved lightning fast over hot skin, solid muscle. Chest and arms and back—I couldn’t get enough. His hand stole beneath the T-shirt I wore and I arched my back so he could reach underneath me and unclasp my bra, then moaned softly at the feel of his palm over my breasts. Moving down, he shoved the shirt and bra up to my neck and put his mouth on me, his lips, his tongue, his teeth, my nipples hardening into tight little peaks that begged to be licked, sucked, teased, tortured.
What are we doing? What are we doing? What are we doing? screamed a voice in my head.
I ignored it, hooking my arms beneath his and pulling him up so I could kiss him again. I didn’t care what we were doing.
It felt way too good to stop.
* * *
* * *
* * *
Six
Nate
My conscience had tried. It had talked to me as we stood there by the sink.
Don’t touch her, it said.
Don’t kiss her, it warned.
Don’t let her get too close.
And I tried, I swear to God I tried to listen. I fought the urge. I told myself no for lots of good reasons.
She was my friend. She was my neighbor. She was someone whose well-being I genuinely cared about. She was a good, generous person helping me out. Beyond that, she trusted me. Trust was something I didn’t take lightly, didn’t offer easily, and didn’t want to accept if I hadn’t earned it.
But I couldn’t resist her.
One kiss, I’d told myself as my lips hovered tantalizingly close to hers. One kiss to see what it was like. One kiss to satisfy the craving for her. One kiss to show her what it meant to me that she was here, that she cared, that she believed in me. I wasn’t good with words, not those kinds of words anyway, but I could communicate my gratitude with a kiss, couldn’t I? And she wanted me to kiss her. I knew she did. I could tell by the way she was holding her breath and standing so still. It would be okay this one time, right? We’d probably laugh about this later.
One kiss. And then we would stop.
Needless to say, that’s not how it went down.
Five minutes after I put my lips on hers for the first time, we were horizontal on the couch and I was trying to reenact my dream from this morning and give it a better ending. Clearly I had way, way overestimated my willpower and underestimated her effect on me, from the scent of her hair to the taste of her skin to the feel of her chest against mine. Her breasts, small but perfectly plump, with sweet little raspberry nipples, drove me wild. Her perfume smelled like summer.
I bet she tastes like summer too. Like those strawberries right off the vine we used to pick when we were kids. The sweetest, juiciest, most luscious strawberries in the world.
I wanted that flavor on my tongue right the fuck now.
In three seconds flat, I’d slid down her body, hiked up her skirt and moved her underwear aside. At the first stroke she moaned aloud, then clapped both hands over her mouth. The more she struggled to stay silent, the more difficult I made the task. I clamped my hands on the outsides of her thighs, pinning her legs in place so she couldn’t get away from my mouth. I got to my knees, hauling her lower body up with me so I could watch her while I worked her into a frenzy, her eyes wild and pleading above the hands that muffled her cries. I used every trick I had—long, lazy strokes up the middle with the flat of my tongue; quick, light flutters across her clit with the tip; swirling circles that made her eyes roll back in her head; fast, hard flicks as I sucked her into my mouth; long, low moans with my mouth sealed to her pussy. In no time at all, she was bucking beneath me, her legs locked around my neck, her head twisting from side to side.
And she was not silent.
She wasn’t even quiet.
Her cries filled the room, bounced off the walls, shook the floor. I loved every fucking second of it. I felt like a million bucks. I might not know how to be a dad, but goddamn, I knew how to make a woman come.
And I was just getting started.
I let her wilted legs drop and reached for my belt.
“Oh my God.” Emme’s eyes opened halfway. She was breathing hard. “That was—”
A shrill, piercing wail cut her off.
No.
Emme looked at the monitor. I looked toward the stairs.
The keening seemed to surround us.
Oh, no.
We looked at each other in disbelief. Blinked.
“Maybe she’ll go back to sleep,” I said, my hands paused on my zipper.
“Maybe.”
But the crying continued, and the spell was broken.
What the hell were we doing, anyway?
As we stared at each other, it dawned on us what we’d been about to do. What we’d done.
“Um,” Emme started.
“Oops,” I finished.
“Yeah. We should maybe—”
“Right.”
Quickly and silently, we put ourselves back together. Emme pulled down her skirt as I put on my shirt. She scooped up her bra from the floor while I zipped and buttoned my pants. Paisley continued to howl.
“I’ll get her,” I said, heading for the stairs.
“Okay.”
My heart was still pounding as I went up. Holy shit. Holy shit. I’d kissed Emme. I’d given her an orgasm with my tongue. I’d nearly fucked her.
How had that even happened? One second I’d been standing there watching her do the dishes, thinking about how pretty she looked, what a good friend she was, how much I appreciated her, and the next my mouth was closing over hers.
That was the last thing I remembered.
Inside my bedroom, I carefully took Paisley from the sleeper and cradled her in my arms. She was restless and fidgety, her arms moving all over the place, but her eyes were closed, leading me to believe I could get her back to sleep. It had only been an hour or so since her last feeding anyway. If I was going to get her on some kind of regular schedule, which all the books suggested, I had to be a little more disciplined about it. There was a pacifier in the sleeper, and I grabbed it, figuring I would give it another try. Holding her stomach against my chest so I could keep one of her arms in place, I fit the pacifier in her mouth and gently held it there, praying she would get the hang of it and like it. She tried to spit it out at first, but then began to suck on it. I thought for sure she would get mad there was no food in it, but she didn’t. She kept it in her mouth and stayed quiet, and gradually I felt her little body relax.
