“I haven’t showered since this morning.” Her cheeks burst with color. It’s freaking adorable. As is the way her eyes keep darting away and her bottom lip gets caught between her teeth. Even as she says it, her hips shift the tiniest bit so she’s rubbing up on my thigh. “If you give me a minute—”
I cut her off before she can finish that thought. “I haven’t showered since last night, so unless you ran a half marathon this morning, I’m going to go ahead and say you’re a hell of a lot fresher than me, and you haven’t been complaining. Take your own advice, Teagan—stop thinking and just feel. Unless you want to stop. Because we can absolutely hit the pause button and do this another day.”
“What? No! I don’t want to stop.”
“Good, me either.”
I kiss my way down her stomach and shift so I can settle between her thighs. I take my time, teasing, nipping, lapping at her, figuring out how much pressure she likes based on her moans and sighs. Being with her feels different. It’s not just about us both getting off, which I obviously want, but with Teagan it’s about getting her there. She isn’t here because she’s looking for a distraction. I’m not something to pass the time. A fun toy to enjoy and discard. We have chemistry, and as much as I didn’t want to acknowledge it at first, it’s the unspoken connection we share that I want to explore. And not just while we’re naked.
But when she tells me she’s getting close and grips my hair with her fingers and breathily murmurs how good I make her feel, I refocus my attention and make her come. When she’s sated and boneless, I pull my wallet from my back pocket, shuck off my jeans and boxers, and flip us over so she’s once again straddling my hips.
I fish a condom out of my wallet, and she plucks it from my fingers. Teagan tears it open and rolls it down my length. Rising up, she angles my erection and sinks down, taking me inside.
I grip her hips, keeping her still for a moment as I absorb the sensation. It’s been a lot of months since I’ve been with anyone. And years since I’ve been with someone for reasons other than physical release.
Teagan’s ponytail slips over her shoulder as she rests her palms on my chest. I reach up and pull the tie free. It falls in soft waves around her face, and I slip my hand behind her neck, pulling her closer. Her hair tickles my chest as I bring her lips to mine.
She rolls her hips, sweet moans humming across my lips. We move together, a push and pull, slow at first, but it feels too damn good, and eventually need and instinct take over. I sit up so we’re chest to chest again, and I cup her ass, lifting and lowering.
We can’t kiss anymore, the pace too frantic, so I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the salty-sweet scent of her skin. It’s only when she moans my name, body quaking, that I let go and let my own release drag me down into that sweet euphoria where all thoughts are muted and only sensation exists.
CHAPTER 10
DECADENT
Teagan
Aaron wraps his arm around my waist and flops back on the bed, head landing on a pillow. I turn mine and rest my cheek on his chest. The wiry hairs tickle and prick my skin, but I don’t move. The sound of his heartbeat is a rhythmic, powerful thump in his chest.
We’re both sweaty and sticky. It’s glorious. And nothing that I’m used to. I’m not forward like this or used to acting on attraction without a whole bunch of dates first. His hand smooths up my back. It’s rough—not the action but his hand. It’s like someone stroking your back with a loofah.
After a minute of just breathing and letting the orgasm aftershocks settle like ripples on the water, I lift my head and rest my chin on his pec. Strands of hair stick to my face and my lips. Damp and unruly. I try to blow them out of the way, but I’m unsuccessful.
Aaron brushes my hair out of my eyes and over my shoulder. It slips back down, fanning out across his broad chest. He tucks his arm behind his head and grins. “You’re full of surprises, aren’t you?”
I shrug. “How do you mean?”
“Dunno, just didn’t expect you to be quite so . . . take charge. I like it.”
“I’m all about turning over new leaves.”
He grins. “I’m happy to help you out with any new leaves you want to turn over that also include nudity.”
I snicker and push up on his chest, lifting off him.
He tries to grab me by the hips, but I roll off the bed and spring to my feet. For a second my legs threaten to give out, but I regain my balance.
He props himself up on one elbow. “Hey, where are you going? What happened to pillow talk?”
“Pillow talk?” I can’t tell if he’s serious or not. I slide the closet door open and search for my bathrobe.
“Yeah. Pillow talk. You know, you tell me how huge I am and how you can’t believe how amazing I am in bed, and I agree, and then you spill all your deep, dark secrets and make me promise never to tell a soul.”
I bark out a laugh and glance over my shoulder. “That’s not pillow talk, Aaron, that’s ego stroking. And I’m not telling you all my deep, dark secrets because you gave me an orgasm. You’re going to have to work a hell of a lot harder than that if you want those.”
“I gave you two orgasms, not one.”
“You better not start keeping a running tally.” I finally find my bathrobe, in the very back of the closet, and free it from the hanger.
“It sounds like there’s a threat attached to that statement. And also like you’re not opposed to getting naked with me again, which I’m completely on board with, in case you were wondering.”
“I wasn’t wondering, actually.” I slip my arm into one sleeve.
“Hey! Stop doing that. Stay naked. Come back to bed.” He pats the mattress.
As enticing as it sounds, I ignore the request. I want to stay in bed and do exactly what he suggests, but I don’t know what it is we’re doing yet, and pillow talk is a level of intimacy I’m not ready for. Personal conversations are different when you’re naked—and they make me feel more vulnerable than I’d like. “I’m jumping in the shower. You’re welcome to join me.”
“You’re killing my afterglow.” I hear his feet hit the floor and smile as I pad across the room.
I manage to get the shower turned on before his arm wraps around my waist and he pulls me back into him. He tosses the spent condom in the wastebasket and burrows through my hair, one hand slipping under my robe to cup my breast as his lips find my neck.
“I’m sweaty.” I still tip my head to the side, transfixed as I watch our reflections in the mirror. I’m tall, but he has more than a head on me, and he’s so broad. It makes me feel delicate.
“You’re delicious, every inch of you,” he murmurs, his eyes lifting to meet mine in our reflection. The mirror steams, turning us into an indistinct blur as my robe drops to the floor and I pull him into the shower with me.