His finger rolled. “Hurry, Laurie.”
I didn’t have to hurry, he rushed me and that was that. His hips started thrusting harder, going deeper, his grunts mingling with my whimpers and then I came again. I wrapped him tight in my limbs and moaned into his mouth.
He drove deep once, twice, three times then four and five all the while he groaned into mine.
After, it felt like being with him on his bike. Out of mind but completely tuned into my body and I didn’t want to be anywhere but there, in my body, attuned to every inch of my skin and every inch of Tate that was on me and in me.
His face was in my neck when he murmured an intense, “Damn baby.”
I came back to my mind.
Oh my God. What had I just done?
I turned my head away and moved my hands from his hair to his shoulders, giving a feeble push.
I felt his head come up. “You light up like that all the time?”
“Get off,” I whispered.
“Or just for me?”
“Please,” I was still whispering.
“Babe,” he called and I shut my eyes tight because he sounded like he was laughing. “I’m not complainin’ but, later, I might wanna take things slow and, you ignite like that…”
“It’s been a long time,” I said quietly and with deep humiliation.
“How long? A decade?”
My head righted and I glared at him because of his joke and because I didn’t think this was funny but also because when I looked at him he was smiling. “No,” I snapped.
“Longer?” he teased.
“Over a year,” I shared but I did it angrily and with a push on his shoulders.
He pressed his hips into mine and I quit pushing.
His brows were up and his tone was incredulous. “Not even self-induced?”
My glare turned molten.
His head dropped but I caught his smile getting bigger before it did. I felt his nose flick my ear and then he muttered there, “You’ve touched yourself.”
“It’s not the same,” I informed him irritably.
His head came up, he looked at me and he whispered, “No, baby, it’s not.”
I decided to go on the offense. “I’ll remind you that you threw me on the bed.”
His smile got even bigger. “Yeah, Ace, a day of you cryin’ in my arms, sleepin’ in my arms, kissin’ you, feelin’ your body, smellin’ your hair, your perfume, only so much a man can take. I ran for an hour, hard, didn’t even fuckin’ warm up, it didn’t touch it. Come back, deal with that fuckwad, and you’re standin’ there, all legs and hair, wearin’ my shirt. Seriously. Only so much a man can take.”
I had to admit, all of what he said made me feel like I was sliding back out of my brain and tuning into my body, a body that felt warm and happy.
I didn’t allow myself to go there.
“Will you get up? I have to take a shower and have breakfast with my family.”
He didn’t get up at first. Instead, his eyes moved over my face and hair.
Then he murmured, “Shower,” and all of a sudden he slid out of me and we were both up. We were on our feet and Tate had my hand. I searched the floor frantically to find his t-shirt in order to snatch it up, put it on and hide my nudity but he dragged me toward the bathroom.
“Tate!” I snapped, yanking at his hand to no avail.
He flipped on the switch and pulled me straight to the shower, reaching in and turning it on.
I tried to yank my hand away again but Tate responded by giving it a sharp tug so I fell forward, nearly into him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, watching him reach in to put a hand under the shower spray.
He turned to me. “In,” he ordered.
“Sorry?” I breathed then his hands were at my hips and he was shoving me in so I had no choice but to climb over the side of the tub and into the shower.
Tate came in after me and slid the curtain closed.
“Um…” I mumbled, my heart beating fast.
He had a great body, every inch of it. I didn’t know how old he was but I knew how old I was and I might not have back fat anymore and my arms and shoulders were moving straight toward killer because Tyler was Mr. Decline Push Up but the rest of me…
“Tate,” I said turning to face him, my forearms covering my breasts but he was examining the little bottles of stuff the hotel left for you in the shower.
He picked a bottle and moved forward so I had to step back and was fully under the spray.
Then I felt his fingers slide through my hair.
“Can we –?” I started.
“Do you first,” Tate muttered. “Then you can get out and finish gettin’ ready.”
“Do me?”
He pulled me forward, so far forward my wet body was plastered against his.
I blinked up at him through the residual water sliding down my face and by the time I could focus his fingers were in my hair. They were strong, working at my hair and scalp.