"Hurry," she whispers, slapping my hand. "He went to his truck. Grab my clothes."
I groan my displeasure, reluctantly sliding my fingers from her. I pick up her shirt and bra from their crumpled pile on the floor and hand them to her. "I'm going to finish what we started," I promise.
Lily grins as she pulls the t-shirt over her head. When she shakes her hair, it tumbles over her shoulders in waves. This time when she walks across the kitchen to sign for the delivery, it's more seductive than before, her hips swaying. I swear her orgasm is evident in every move she makes right now, and it makes me want to make her come a thousand more times. When the delivery guy returns with his clipboard for the signature, he doesn't make eye contact with either of us.
"Leave it outside," I growl.
"Killian!" Lily admonishes me. When he's gone, she whirls around, facing me. "You scared my delivery guy."
"Be glad that's all I did. That motherfucker might have gotten a look at your tits."
Lily laughs. The sound is light, lighter than anything I've heard from her since we met, and I can't help but smile. She stands in front of me with her hand on her hip, the way she does when she's angry with me, except she's not. She has a flush on her cheeks, a post-orgasm glow that makes her look even sexier than usual, and the sight makes me want to rip her clothes off right this instant.
Her gaze drops lower, and she brings a hand to her swollen lips. "Oh my God," she whispers. "You're still…"
"Hard? Yeah."
Lily steps closer to me, and I smell her perfume. Or her shampoo. Whatever it is, I swear it makes me even harder. "You were hard when the delivery guy came in."
"I want you. Getting interrupted doesn't change that."
She looks up at me, her eyes half-lidded. "Killian." She whispers my name, her hand palming my cock through my jeans.
I groan at her touch, even through the fabric of my jeans. It's her touch I've been fantasizing about. "Lily."
Her fingers fumble with the button on my pants, her eyes on mine. My cock jumps at the thought of her hand on my cock, pulling me from my jeans. And her mouth. Then she pauses. "I… " Her voice trails off. "I haven't done this in a… a long time."
Shit.
Even though I suspected as much, hearing the words come out of her mouth sends a surge of guilt through me. She's been hurt; it's written all over her; and she hasn't done this in a long time.
I can't just throw her up against a wall and fuck her.
She catches the look on my face. "I didn't mean that I don't want to," she whispers. "I'm just – I don't know what I'm saying." She starts to unzip my jeans and I grab her wrist.
"Don't." I'm irritated with the fact that she's not sure and still unzipping my pants like she feels like she owes me something. When her eyes go wider, surprised at my response, I yank her to me, my hardness against her leg. My cock twitches at the sensation of her body on mine, and I groan.
"I want to –"
"Bullshit. You're not sure. I can see it in your eyes. You think I'm going to fuck you like that? Or stick my cock down your throat because I want to get off?"
Her face colors and I know I'm right. She inhales sharply, her bottom lip between her teeth. "I'm not a cocktease."
That word, coming out of her mouth…I groan low in my throat. Fuck, I want to hear her say it again. "Yeah you are. You're my cocktease." I press my hardness against her for emphasis.
"I'm not anyone's anything," she protests, but she doesn't try to pull her wrist from my hand, nor does she step away from me - even though she could. Instead, she runs her tongue over her lower lip.
"You're mine," I growl. The words come out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying. I've never called anyone "mine". Hell, I've never wanted anything to be mine before. The words should sound foreign to my ears but they don't. Calling her mine feels like the most natural thing in the world, and that fact sends a pang of fear through me that I immediately push out of my head.
Lily raises her eyebrows. "I'm not yours," she whispers.
"Stop talking, woman." Letting go of her wrist, I bring my mouth down on hers in a furious kiss. I slide my hand to her back, holding her hard against me. Her tongue finds mine swiftly before she pulls back and looks at me.
"Stop telling me to stop talking," she says. "You can't just go around saying things like that."
She doesn't mean calling her woman. She means calling her mine.
My eyes locked on hers, I reach for the button on her jeans and she doesn't stop me. Her breasts rise as she breathes in, her lip pulling between her teeth again. That's her tell – the lip between the teeth. I unzip her jeans and slide my hand down the front of her panties – light blue cotton panties, nothing fancy, but hell if they aren't the sexiest thing I've ever seen in my life. When my fingertips make contact with her clit, she lets out a whine, her need for me more than apparent. "This is mine."