Page 58 of Falling for You

We pull into my driveway and he cuts the engine. His left leg is propped against the door and aside from the constant tapping of his thumb against the steering wheel, he’s the picture of relaxation.

“Just gonna sit out here all night?” I ask, already sensing his hesitation to come inside. I can also see how badly he’s battling with himself right now.

To sex her.

Or not to sex her.

I think we’re on the same page here, though.

It’s just going to be fun messing with him a little bit.

He’s made it very clear that his past relationships have either ended horribly, by way of his brother, the ass, or by the night being over with.

He’s also hinted he would like to see where this thing between us is going to go.

For that to happen, we need to not have sex. At least not yet. Even though every molecule in my body is currently firing and screaming at me to HAVE SEX WITH THIS SEXY AS FUCK GUY ALREADY.

Okay, so maybe I’m not as secure in my decision as I thought but hey, I know he isn’t either.

I open my door and step down.

“Come on, you big baby. I don’t bite.” Then before I close the door I pop my head back through the opening, “Unless you want me to.” I slam the door and run up the few stairs to my front door, quickly unlock it, and rush inside.

I count to five and he’s already charging in after me.

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you? Teasing me like this?”

“Whatever do you mean?”

“I’m in your head, gorgeous. I know what you’re thinking.”

Walking backwards, I keep my eyes trained on him as I shed my zip-up hooded sweatshirt. I look like a complete ragamuffin — how he finds me attractive when I’m not wearing a lick of makeup, my clothes look like I slept in them (because I totally did) and my hair is sticking up in a thousand different directions is beyond me — and his eyes flare when he notices the tiny tank top I’m wearing underneath. It was chilly enough at the pumpkin patch that I never needed to remove my jacket, thank goodness.

My yoga pants have slight flare at the bottom, but they hug my ass, molding it and somehow lifting it high. Throughout our time this afternoon I saw him not-so discreetly checking it out on several occasions, which made me grateful I kept them on like he suggested.

I spin around so he gets a good look, shimmy a bit before bending over to untie my shoes. Ass up in the air, I hear him groan and approach from behind me.

“You’re trouble, you know that?”

I stand straight and turn to face him, putting on the most innocent expression I can muster. “Me?”

His steps are slow. Calculated. If there was a video dictionary, one could look up swagger and it would show Rex in this moment. His countenance full of smolder. He could teach lessons on how to smolder. Heavens. And his voice. Low, sexy. I’m two seconds away from combusting and saying eff it. We’re gonna sex it up all night long.

“Yes, you. You know exactly what you’re doing over here, wearing this tiny shirt and these fucking pants that hug your ass and make me want to do nothing but bite it.”

I shudder. I can’t even pretend that I don’t want him. My body is incapable of it.

His nose skims the shell of my ear as his tongue, with a feather-like touch, sneaks out to wet the skin where the top of my jaw meets my neck. It’s as if he was given a map that said Chloe’s Erogenous Zones at the top with a detailed description of every spot on my body that makes me zing. For real, it’s incredible how in tune he is with my body.

“Still with me?” he asks, breath warming my skin as he plants open-mouthed kisses on my neck, sucking lightly then bending low, lifting me up under my ass that he clenches tightly in his strong grip. My legs do their best to wrap around his waist but it’s a lot of work when I’m this wound up. When all I want to do is grind my center over his and feel our bodies come alive with what I know would be an explosive orgasm for each of us.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“Good,” he grunts, walking us both over to the couch.

He sits down, me straddling him, and brings my face down to his. Our lips are but a breath apart. Eyes staring into one another. He stretches his neck, kisses me.

Groaning when our tongues collide in a dance that feels more like a fight for dominance.

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