The Hot One

His hand slinks to my belly, splays over my shirt. He yanks it up and presses his palm against me, flesh to flesh, and it feels so damn good.

“The things I want to do to you,” he murmurs in my ear as he plays with the waistband of my running shorts . . . “Strip off your clothes.” Tugs at the material . . . “Bring you to the bed.” Dips a finger inside my shorts . . . “Spread those gorgeous legs wide open for me.”

I groan. I am nothing but flames and sparks and heat.

“Would you like that?” he growls, low and dirty in my ear.

I answer with a nod, as wetness gathers between my legs. I’m dying for him to touch me, I’m praying for him to taste me, I’m wishing for him to fuck me.

Even though the rational part of my brain knows I’ll only allow one of those three right now, I want them all. I want all of him.

“I’d put you on your belly, and kiss you everywhere. I’d drive you wild,” he says, then slides his fingers lower into my shorts, tangoing with my panties.

I want to fuck him. I want him to fuck me. I want him to slide his fingers inside me and know what he does to me. I rock against him, seeking more with my body. “Please,” I murmur.

He shoves his hand inside my panties all the way. “Jesus Christ,” he groans as he touches me.

I can’t speak. I can’t say anything. My mouth falls open, and my entire body crackles.

“Look at my sexy angel. So fucking wet for me.” He slides his fingers through my wetness, and groans with each glide and stroke. “My sexy angel still gets turned on by me. Is that right?”

I pant out a yes.

Another stroke, and I shudder. A whole body shudder.

“You’ve never been this wet,” he rasps out. “I’m thinking you might still want me.”

I moan my agreement.

“And I bet you still think about me.”

All the time, I want to say, but he knows from my body that I do.

“Do I fuck you when you’re alone? Do I put you on your knees and take you?”

I nod as his fingers part me, and my whole body vibrates. Dear God, this man gets to me.

His chin brushes my ear. His breath is hot against my skin. “What else do I do to you when you’re all alone?”

“Everything.”

“Your favorite thing?” Tyler’s mouth scrapes against my shoulder, the bristles of his chin rough and hard.

I shake. White-hot tension grips me, tight in my belly, and it courses through me, flooding me as he sends me closer to the edge with his words, and his hands, and the reminders of how he owns my body.

“Yes,” I whisper, and I’ve never known the word desperate so completely till this moment. I am desperate everywhere.

He rubs his chin over my shoulder, like he’s stirring up my memory. “My face buried between those pretty legs of yours.”

Groans and curses fall uncontrollably from my mouth. Because . . . that. I want that so much.

Nothing, nothing, nothing in the world compares to the way he went down on me. I can’t even describe it, but the first time he did it he promised I’d love it, and I didn’t just love it, I’d have died for it. He kissed me down there like I was heaven, and he made me feel I’d gone there, too, but even better. I was in heaven, but I was still alive.

“And do I make love to you, too?” he asks.

My voice breaks as I give a yes while he strokes me, his fingers moving faster, sliding between my legs, then over my clit, then back again. A noise comes from my lips. It sounds like a cry.

My God, it’s so good I swear I might cry.

“God,” I breathe out. “Kiss me and fuck me with your fingers.”

His only response is a growl.

He doesn’t turn me around. He doesn’t change positions. He simply presses his cock harder, rubs me faster, then turns my face.

And like this, his front to my back, my face turned to the side, his hand in my shorts, he kisses me hard and fucks me relentlessly with his fingers.

Tightness builds in my belly in seconds. The tension escalates. It grips me as the need to come radiates in my whole body. I grind against his hand, dipping down, riding his fingers as he kisses me like a madman.

I groan into his mouth, then it turns into the start of a scream.

“Oh God,” I say, breaking the kiss. “I’m going to—”

“Quiet,” he instructs, then he slams his mouth to mine again. He steals my kiss, his greedy mouth swallowing the sound of my orgasm. A climax detonates in my body and rattles through me, spreading to every corner.

I shake everywhere. My knees, my chest, my hips.

My feet barely touch the ground as I come on his hand. Kissing and coming, coming and kissing.

And it’s mind blowing.

When I start to float down, he pulls out his fingers, brings them to his mouth, and sucks me off.

I’m dizzy and drugged and so turned on.

He gently spins me around, and shoots me a cocky, lopsided grin. “Have I mentioned how good it is to see you again, angel?”

I sigh happily. “It is good to see you, Tyler.”

He presses his forehead to mine, and that small gesture melts me for him. Butterflies rule my body as he gently kisses my face. “And it’s equally good to make you come again. Don’t forget there’s a whole lot more of that in store for you.” He takes a few steps back and says, “Let me know where to pick you up for the party.”

He turns on his heel and leaves.

My legs are jelly as I walk upstairs to get ready for work.

But I wouldn’t change a thing.

Except my panties. I change those.





15





Delaney



* * *



Later that day, I set a hand on my belly, to quiet the burst of nerves. Little morsels of guilt slip and slide over my skin.

But it’s just an email. It’s not even the email from the private detective. But even so—why do I feel like I’ve done something wrong?

I squeeze my eyes shut, as I grip the bureau in my bedroom, white-knuckling the wood.

Shake it off.

I open my eyes, flop down on my bed, and grab my phone. I re-read Trevor’s note that he sent while I was working today.



* * *



Hey Delaney,



* * *



Hope this doesn’t sound weird, but I saw a six-pack of plastic rings on the ground and thought of you. And, truth be told, the straw I found on my sidewalk the other day reminded me of you, too. Come to think of it, so did the crumpled-up newspaper skittering around outside my office building.

But, I’ll have you know, I cleaned them up and disposed of them properly.

In any case, I had a great time with you the other night, and I swear I’m not just saying that because we share a pet peeve. I’ll be taking off tomorrow for my trip, and I’ll do my best to make sure the contestants don’t shed a tear from my critiques. By the way, do you have a favorite cuisine? Let me know, and I can book a reservation for dinner when I return.

Hope you have a great Girls’ Night Out tonight. No doubt it’ll be a blast.

Talk soon,

Trevor



* * *



I toss the phone to the middle of the bed, grab a pillow, slam it on top of my face, and curse into the downy feathers.

But my pillow tirade solves nothing.