“Jesus,” I muttered into my wineglass.
“Yeah. That whole fiasco was a tipping point for my ex, actually. My father specifically requested that I not bring Keith to my stepsister’s wedding, so I went alone. Keith thought it was a slap in the face to him, I thought it would’ve been a slap in the face to my stepsister if I had brought him, and…” He waved his hand.
“Can’t win, can you?”
“Nope.”
“Families. Gotta love ’em.”
“Yeah, really.”
Our eyes met. We both set our wineglasses on the table, and when we settled back against the couch, we were sitting closer than before. I put my arm around his shoulders. His hand slid over my thigh.
“Enough of that bullshit,” he said. “The past is in the past. And I”—he watched his fingertips tracing my inseam—“I want us to enjoy tonight.”
“Me too.” I put my hand over his. “I guess it’s just refreshing to talk about this shit with someone who gets it.”
“That’s true. To be honest, I still feel like I barely know you, but it’s really good to find someone on the same wavelength.”
“It really is. I’m sorry for that interruption in getting to know each other. It went on way too long.”
“No time like the present to pick up where we left off.”
“God, yes.” I brought his hand up and pressed my lips to the middle of his palm. Our eyes met again, and whatever I was about to say—I’d been about to say something, hadn’t I?—evaporated. I let the thought go, because I couldn’t resist moving in for a kiss. A kiss that led to another. And another. And a longer one.
“I’m seeing a trend here,” he said between kisses. “Can’t…can’t be on the same surface as you without—”
“That’s not a complaint, is it?”
A shiver pushed him closer to me. “Not a complaint at all.”
I wasn’t complaining either.
I could’ve sworn this was supposed to be a casual—if, work permitting, somewhat regular—hookup, but that wasn’t how it felt right then. Here on his sofa, wrapped up in his arms and a long, lazy kiss, it didn’t feel casual at all. Less “I’ve been waiting all week for this” and more “I’ve been waiting my whole life for this”.
No, it was way too soon for any of that.
“God, if I wasn’t so tired,” I murmured. “I would top the fuck out of you tonight.”
Rick shivered again. “We’ll get there.”
“I know, but I really will make it up to you.”
“Nothing to make up to me. I’m perfectly happy just doing this tonight.”
“Still…” I touched my forehead to his. “You need a Dom. I need a sub. And—”
“And tonight, I just need you.”
All the air rushed out of my lungs. “Me too.”
Our words bounced around in my head for a moment, and my stomach tightened. I broke the kiss. Our eyes met. My heart sped up. Neither of us said a word.
I could’ve sworn we were just hooking up for some kinky action. Not…
I slid my hand around the back of his neck, drew him back in and kissed him, deeper and harder than before. Fatigue weighed my body down, but my pounding heart and hardening cock were much more insistent. Breathlessly, I broke the kiss and started down his neck as I ran my hand up his thigh to his groin.
He alternated between combing his fingers through my hair and kneading my scalp, pressing harder as his cock thickened beneath my hand.
He let his head fall back against the sofa, exposing his neck to my lips.
“I thought you were tired,” he murmured.
“I am.” I started drawing his zipper down. “But you’re not. And I have a feeling you’ve been needing this as much as I have.”
“Yeah, I have.” He gasped as I unbuttoned the top of his pants. “What can I say? You’re addictive.”
“So are you.”
He put a hand over mine. “W-wait.”
I lifted my head. “Hmm?”
“Cooking. We—” He glanced over his shoulder, as if he could see the oven timer from here. “I guess... Yeah. We have a little time before dinner’s ready.”
“Do we?” I raised an eyebrow. “What if I want to take my time?”
Rick gulped.
I slid my hand up the inside of his thigh. “Tell you what. I’ll take you upstairs right now and fuck the hell out of you. And after dinner”—I half shrugged—“we’ll play it by ear.”
“Yes, please.”
“I love it when you ask nicely. Now get upstairs.”
Chapter Eighteen
Between my fatigue and the dinner Rick had cooked—holy fuck, he was as good in the kitchen as he was in the bedroom—neither of us had nearly enough energy to go a second round. Being tired and sluggish did give us an excuse to climb into bed together at the end of the night, though, and as I blinked against the harsh morning light, I was glad I’d stayed over.