“We both know you’re lying.”
Without any forewarning, Kellan pulls back and helps me down from the counter, his eyes roaming my body, drinking me in. His hair is a disheveled mess, but it looks good on him. His lips are slightly swollen from our kiss. I bet I look just as affected, but the disheveled look probably doesn’t suit me as much as him.
“What?” My hands shoot up to straighten my clothes.
“I’m considering where to fuck you. Right now, I’m thinking it’s either against the kitchen counter or on the table.” His fingers begin to fumble with the zipper on my jeans. “Or I could do both.”
My breath catches in my throat as I watch him walk over to the door and lock up, then sit down on a chair.
Holy shit!
Who the fuck has a lock on the door in the kitchen?
Someone who isn’t doing this for the first time.
“Take off all your clothes. I want to see you naked.”
I stare at him, unsure if I’ve heard him right. “It’s the middle of the day, Kellan.”
Think light streaming in through the window, bathing the kitchen in glaring brightness. I’m not usually the self-conscious type, but this is way too much light for presenting yourself naked to a man like him.
“Strip, Ava.” His tone is sharp, demanding. “I’m not expecting a lap dance.” His eyes glint, and the corners of his lips curl upward. “Not yet anyway. But I want you to do as I say when I say it.”
I shouldn’t be letting a guy tell me what to do, particularly not when I’m uncomfortable with his demand. But his charge is strangely arousing. Slowly, I unbutton my shirt and slide out of it, letting it fall into a bundle at my feet. Holding my breath, I pull my jeans down my hips and remove my bra. My breasts spill out, my nipples already beaded, ready to be sucked into his mouth.
I don’t remove my panties. Fighting the urge to cover my breasts with my hands, I just stand there a few feet from Kellan, waiting for his reaction.
He takes a sharp breath and moistens his lips.
“Damn.” That’s all he says.
Damn good? Damn bad? Damn nice weather?
I raise my brows. “Care to be more specific?”
He doesn’t.
“The panties.” He gestures at my lace panties impatiently. “Take them off.”
Sighing, I strip out of them and let them fall to my feet. Now I’m completely naked, exposed to his ardent scrutiny.
He takes his time running his gaze over my body, taking in every inch of me. His breathing is raspy.
“Come here,” he says eventually, and I amble over, stopping right in front of him.
He stands, towering over me as he leans forward to whisper in my ear while his leg moves to part my knees, “Show me how wet you are.”
It’s not a question; it’s a statement, as though he knows just how eager I am to have him inside me. As though he’d expect nothing else from me.
His fingers send shivers down my spine as they trail down my abdomen and settle at my entrance. My breath hitches, caught in my chest like a trapped bird. Holding my breath, I spread my legs a little wider to grant him easy access.
“You’re dripping. So ready.” Slowly, he dips the tip of one finger into me and then lifts it to his mouth and licks my moisture off it. “I like the way you taste and smell. I’ll like your slickness even more around my cock.”
Oh, God.
No one’s ever talked like this to me before.
I don’t know how to react to it, so I just stare at him while he strips off his shirt, jeans, and underwear—all in a matter of seconds. The motion is so skillful, I can’t help but wonder how many times he’s practiced it and with how many women.
The pang of jealousy is ridiculous when I’m not interested in him emotionally whatsoever.
Instead of following the irritating thought, I look down and almost choke on my breath.
Holy crap!
He’s huge. Way bigger than I remember. And so hard, I almost come from just looking at him. No wonder he only does casual. With a cock like that, he’s most certainly not short of eager women lining up at his door to get a good tumble between the sheets.
Hell, I’ve just turned into one of them.
I have to force my eyes away. Looking anywhere else but his hardness is good, and yet I keep stealing glances.
The tip is engorged, glistening with moisture. I watch him slide his hand up and down its length.
“You keep looking at me, Ava. And you should. This is how hard you make me, baby.”
I avert my eyes instantly, my already flushed cheeks catching fire.
He caught me staring. Again.
“No,” I say, but the lie’s so obvious it’s embarrassing.
“Look at me,” he commands as he begins to stroke himself, up and down, the gesture both intimate and familiar.
My tongue flicks across my lips.
“I want to help,” I whisper.
He groans but doesn’t take me up on the offer. “Say you want me to fill you up.”