Page 111 of This Could Be Us

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks, and the studied evenness of his tone is as telling as if he had roared the words.

I drop my head, and his fingers spear into the hair at my nape. “The first time was a few days after we met, after the Christmas party.” I bitemy lip, blowing out a sharp exhalation. “I felt so guilty. I didn’t mean to. I had never thought of another man that way.”

“Tell me.” He leaves one hand at my throat and slides the other to my back, a caress in long strokes that burn through the material of my dress.

A harsh laugh grates my throat, and I swallow the hurt that’s not quite healed. “The night you and I met, Edward and I argued before coming to the party because we hadn’t had sex in two months. He knew how much I…”

I falter, unsure how this man, so disciplined and controlled, will respond to the truth about me.

“He knew how much you… what?” Judah asks, pushing the hair away from my throat and rolling his thumb over the sensitive skin there.

“He knows I have a high sex drive,” I say in a rush, not meeting his eyes.

His thumb at my throat pauses for a second but then resumes the caress that is sending sparks over my collarbones and across my chest. I watch as my nipples peak and pebble beneath the thin wool of my dress.

“Take off your clothes.”

His words, hard and flat, yet with a sudden urgency bubbling beneath them, stall me.

“What?” I blink up at him.

“Whatever this thing is you were telling me, this Edward thing, I don’t give a fuck.” He runs his hands over my stomach and over my hips, my ass. “Do you want me to do it? How do I get this off of you?”

“Um, there’s a zipper at the—”

Shock strangles the words as he turns me around abruptly and tugs the zipper at the top of my neck, dragging it down with swift decisiveness to the base of my spine. He peels the sleeves down over my shoulders until the bodice pools around my waist.

He shoves the dainty straps of my bra away with his lips. “God, your skin, Sol.”

He rakes my hair aside and blesses the back of my neck withopen-mouthed kisses, hot and worshipful. He sucks the curve of my shoulder, unhooks the bra at my back. The lacy cups slump forward, falling to the floor and leaving my breasts bare in the cool air. They’re not uncovered for long because he reaches around, cupping them in his hands, rubbing and tugging the nipples with firm, sure fingers.

“Oh.” I go limp against him, the sensitive skin of my naked back prickling against the softness of his sweatshirt. “I had no idea how sensitive my breasts were until—”

“You said you’d never come from just that,” he whispers into the curve of my neck, never letting up on the peaks in his palms hardening, begging for his attention. For more. “Let’s find all the other ways we can make you come.”

His hands leave my breasts and I almost weep at the loss, but hedoesn’tleave me. He pushes the dress over my hips, over my ass, and down my thighs.

“Soledad,” he rasps behind me. “If I had known you were wearing this thong, we’d already be fucking on my kitchen table. There’s no way I could have waited.”

I’d forgotten. The dress fits so closely, and I hadn’t wanted panty lines. I’m forming the words to explain, but I yelp at the wet heat of his mouth on the curve of my ass.

“Judah!”

I twist my head to peer at him over my shoulder, and my knees go completely weak. He’s kneeling, eyes squeezed shut, mouth open on one generous globe of my butt. He rains kisses over it, licks the curve, coaxes the strip of silk down until it slides around my ankles, joining the dress and bra in a silky heap at my feet.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he mumbles, squeezing my butt, sucking it, licking it. “This ass.”

His hand disappears between my legs.

“Ahhh!” I gasp when two big fingers slip over my clit, rubbing me and exploring my pussy freely. I can’t even be embarrassed at the sounds in the quiet room, the sounds of my sloppy wet pussy as hestrokes me. His fingers leave me for a moment, and when I peer at him over my shoulder again, both fingers are in his mouth.

“You taste…” He stands, coming around to face me, bending to put his shoulder at my waist and lifting. I’m in the air before I even know what’s happening, dangling over his back.

“Judah!” I half laugh, half protest. “Put me down.”

He drops me onto the bed, and I bounce a little, which makes me giggle. I sound like a giddy virgin. I feel like one, instead of the forty-year-old mother of three who has done this half my life.

“You, Soledad Charles,” he says, standing between my knees at the foot of the bed, famished eyes roving over my naked body, “are fantastic.”

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