I wrapped my arms around her, flattening our bodies together, pushing her down to squirm under me. She seemed so small like this. I wanted to gather her up, to protect her and pleasure her, and keep her for myself.
It took me a moment to recognize that fleeting spark of possessiveness for what it was. I hadn’t felt that way about a woman for a very long time. Usually I was content to enjoy whoever I was with, and then get the hell out of there when we were done.
Holding Lacey this close, I could feel her breathing hitch slightly whenever I nibbled her lower lip or stroked my tongue around hers. I mapped her mouth for every spot that made her knees tighten around my waist.
Daniella and I never kissed, and I was quickly realizing how much I loved it. It was strangely hot and sweet at the same time. Everything else in my life melted away, leaving only Lacey—her soft curves, soft skin, soft lips, soft sighs.
But I couldn’t ignore the pressure building fast in my groin. I rocked into her, grinding my hard bulge between her legs. She squeaked into my mouth.
“You like this?” I knew damn well she did—her hips had stuttered up to meet mine. But I wanted to hear her say it out loud.
“Y-yeah,” Lacey said softly.
I rewarded her with another quick, hard kiss. She tried to kiss back, only for me to pull just out of reach. “Can I touch you?” I asked.
Her sapphire eyes had already gone dark with desire. As soon as she nodded, I pounced.
I lavished her neck with long, sucking kisses as my hands roamed her body, squeezing her plush tits over her shirt—
Oh God, no bra under there; she’d been bare this whole time.
She gave a quiet moan and I took that as encouragement to push up her shirt. Eager to make her feel good, I moved my mouth lower to lick and gently bite her soft pink nipples. Spurred on by the sexy little sounds she made, I pushed myself between her legs, letting her feel how much she excited me.
Lacey groaned again.
I was torn between wanting to make her feel good and not wanting to push her too far, too fast. A quick fuck on her couch probably wasn’t what she’d had in mind when she invited me over tonight. And something about her made me want to take my time, savor her in a way I’d never done with a woman before.
I bent forward to kiss her again, long and slow, while massaging her gorgeous breasts. I couldn’t keep my hands off them. Such a beautiful set of tits deserved to be worshiped, touched, kissed, licked, bitten. The desire to mark her skin flared inside me, and I only barely beat it back.
Lacey rocked her pelvis up to grind against me, and a tortured growl clawed up my throat.
“Careful, sweetheart,” I warned.
I was on my best behavior at the moment, but if she kept rubbing her warm * up against me, I wouldn’t be for long. The thought of stripping her shorts away and pounding into her tight, hot cunt almost edged out every ounce of my good sense.
Somehow, some way, I reined myself in, letting her set the pace. We remained clothed, kissing and groping and grinding until I thought my cock was going to burst. But our leisurely make-out session was strangely satisfying on its own. More than enough—at least, for now.
How could such a tame act be so much fun? Maybe I’d been missing out on a good thing for all these years. Or maybe kissing only felt this good with Lacey.
Something to ponder for another time.
We cuddled and kissed in front of a movie she picked, some feel-good comedy that left me free to focus on her warm softness against my side until the oven timer rang. Then we served ourselves the delicious-smelling feast. At the first tender bite, Lacey’s coo of pleasure made me lean across the table and kiss her yet again.
Despite all the scars we’d bared—or maybe because of them—tonight had been nothing short of perfect. But my past had taught me not to trust so easily. As happy as I felt right then, I couldn’t shake the unsettling feeling that things were too good to be true.
Chapter Seven
Lacey
When my boss insisted on happy hour, I couldn’t exactly refuse. I’d wanted to go home, get out of my slobber-soaked jeans and T-shirt, and take a hot bath, but I figured one drink couldn’t hurt.
Jamie was a recent divorcée, and while she was friendly and outgoing, she was also a bit like a cougar on the prowl. A rabid cougar.
Soon we were sitting at West’s bar, the same place I’d met Nolan the week before, drinking jumbo-sized margaritas. It was ladies’ night, which meant two cocktails for the price of one.
Crap . . . so much for just grabbing one quick drink. I could only hope my boss wouldn’t drown her romantic sorrows too hard.
Jamie set her frosty glass down on the table, looking forlorn. “The next man I’ll even consider dating will need to have a steady job and no mommy issues.”
I made a sympathetic noise that she could interpret however she wanted. Her standards weren’t exactly high, but hey, who was I to judge?