Now he stood at her door with flowers in his hand. How ridiculous was that? He wasn’t a flowers kind of guy. A bottle of Jack Daniel’s, maybe, especially if there was going to be some hard partying involved. But flowers? Not unless it was Mother’s Day and he was going to see his mom.
He thought about going back to his car and tossing the flowers in the backseat. She’d laugh.
Fuck it. He rang the doorbell.
She answered a few seconds later, a bright smile on her face.
God, she looked good in a black sundress with tiny yellow print on the fabric. High heels of course. And her hair was down.
She glanced at the bouquet and her smile brightened. She lifted her gaze to his. “You brought me flowers.”
“Yeah.”
She grabbed his free hand and pulled him inside, shut the door, wrapped her hand around the nape of his neck, and put her lips on his, sending him into a quick buzz of arousal. All he’d done for the past week was think about her—her smell, her taste, the way her lips and her body moved against him. He thought about her smile, her laugh, the way they argued with each other, and how much she irritated him.
She tasted like mint and wine, and he sucked in a breath at the same time he was gut punched by how much he’d missed her. He swept his arm around her and pulled her close, his body and his mind swamped with sensation and emotion.
When she pulled back, she licked her lips and took the flowers from his hand, laid them on the table next to the door and wound both her arms around him.
“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but all I’ve done is think about you.”
He liked hearing it. “Why shouldn’t you tell me? I’ve thought about you, too. I think you probably have about fifty text messages from me.”
She shuddered out a sigh. “I know. I saved them all. I feel like a teenager. How pathetic am I?”
“I should probably just dump my balls into your hand.”
“I should hand over my feminist card because they’re going to kick me out of the club.”
He laughed, swept her into his arms, and carried her up the stairs to her bedroom. It was still early enough that sunlight streamed in through the gauzy curtains at her windows. He stood her in front of them and admired the halo of light around her hair.
God, he was poetic now. If he didn’t fuck her soon, he might cry like a girl.
“I know you dressed all pretty for me, and you look great, but I’m going to strip your dress off and get you naked and messy.”
She moved closer, wriggled against him. “Oooh. Can’t wait.”
He pulled the straps of the dress down her arms and reached behind to unzip it. It floated to the floor and she stepped out of it.
It was a good thing he was a young guy with a strong heart, because she wore a black and yellow bra with matching panties. Christ, even her shoes matched. She fell onto the bed and spread her legs, leaving those dangerous heels on.
Gavin stepped forward and skimmed his hands along her calves and thighs, lifting her legs to get a look at her shoes.
“You buy underwear to match your shoes now?”
She giggled. “Sometimes.”
“You never fail to surprise me, woman.”
“I hope not.”
He swept his hands down her legs, so smooth and soft, then laid them back on the bed, spreading them apart so he could stand between them. She planted her heels in the side slat of the bed and lifted her hips to him.
He slid his thumb over the bright yellow and black silk of her panties, found her clit. She hissed as he brushed his thumb back and forth over the hard bud; she let out a soft cry when he tucked his fingers under the lace to touch her soft flesh. When he moistened his fingers with her juices and circled her clit, her hand shot around his wrist.
“There. Right there. Don’t stop.”
He rubbed the bud back and forth, and she arched against him, dancing against his finger.
“Gavin, I need to come. I’ve held off all week just waiting for you.”
There was such power in a woman demanding to be pleasured. But he wanted to taste her, wanted to peel off her panties and bury his face between her legs. That’s how he wanted her to come.
He pulled his fingers away and she whimpered, but when he drew her panties down her legs, her eyes blazed emerald fire.
She lifted up on her elbows and widened her legs for him, panting as he shouldered his way between them.
“Yes. Lick me. Make me come.”
She reached for his head and slid her fingers in his hair, pulling him down to her *.
Oh, yeah. She really needed it. Her desperation made his dick pound, because that meant she’d waited for him, that she needed him. The ego boost made him want to slide his cock inside her, made his need to come almost as strong as hers.
But Elizabeth was going to come first.
He swiped his tongue along her soft flesh, inhaling the sweet aroma of her arousal, licking every secret fold as he made his way to the tight button that would rocket her into a climax. She tensed, lifted her butt off the mattress, and shoved her * against his face.