Page 132 of Can't Get Enough

“And your hotel is okay?” Bolt asks, breaking into my adolescent fantasy of sex with Hendrix and pom-poms.

“Huh? Yeah, it’s fine. The important part is I’m near Hendrix.”

“You are so…” He smothers a chuckle. “Never mind.”

“What?” I frown. “I’m so what?”

“Man, so gone for her.”

“I’m not… I mean… it’s not…” I let out a resigned sigh because shit. I absolutely am. “How did this happen?”

This time Bolt’s laughter booms across the line, which for a man of such restraint, has only happened a few times in the years he’s worked with me.

“Guess she put it on you,” he says, still laughing.

“Yeah? And what did Skipper put on you that had you fucking her the first night you met? Reckless bastard.”

“Um… well—”

“‘Um, well’ my ass. At least I got the woman I want.”

“It’s not like that with Skipper,” he admits quietly. “I mean, we’re attracted to each other and it’s… I’ve never felt anything like this, but we don’t know each other and every time we try togetto know each other, we fight.”

“Figure it out. Spend time with her. Hendrix and I didn’t just smash right off the bat. We took time getting to know each other.”

“We’ve tried.”

I reluctantly replace the cheerleading photo into its tarnished gold frame. “All I know is that I’ve been attracted to women before. Had a good time. Moved on, but this feels different. I haven’t been with Hendrix long, but I can’t imagine wanting to move on from her.”

“You saying you want to marry her?” Bolt asks, surprise tilting the question up at the end.

“I’m saying I can’t imagine a time when I don’t want to be with her, and whatever that requires, I’ll do.”

Hendrix walks in, pulling up short when she sees me seated in her father’s old office chair. She closes the door behind her and locks it, grinning as she crosses the room, an exaggerated swing to her hips.

“I gotta go,” I tell Bolt, hanging up before he has a chance to reply.

With no prelude or comment, Hendrix straddles me so her sundress inches up her thighs. She loops her arms over my shoulders and kisses my neck.

“Wagwan,” she whispers in my ear, the honeyed mesquite of her voice and the drawl that seems to have deepened since she’s been back home stroking my nerve endings.

I palm her ass and scoot her down farther on my lap, making sure she feels how hard I get every time she walks into a room. I slip myfingers under the edge of her silk panties, kneading the plump globes of her butt. She tips her head to kiss me, and our tongues spar, battle for dominance. She bites my lip hard.

“Damn, Hen.” I pull back, tugging the throbbing spot on my lip. We haven’t made love since I got here. Not that it hasn’t occurred to me, but everything else has been more important. Now nothing feels more urgent.

She smiles and without taking her eyes from mine, sucks on my bottom lip, licking the sting. My eyes drift closed, her kiss inebriating, at turns soothing and provoking. Her breasts press into my chest and her hips rock over my lap, urging me to rock back. To thrust up. I tug the bodice of her dress down, and her berry-tipped breasts spill into my hands.

“God, been missing these.” I take one into my mouth and lave it with my tongue, suck and bite until she whimpers. She reaches between us, running her palm over my erection.

“Need this dick.” She pulls back to look in my eyes, still undulating like one of my perfect waves I wait for just the right moment to ride.

I shove her panties aside and push three fingers in. No time for playing. She gasps, her eyes heavy lidded like she’s as drunk on this as I am. She dips her head, sucks my neck so hard I know she leaves her mark.

“I want to stretch for you,” she pants at my ear.

I add a fourth finger and she widens her thighs, pushes down. Her body clamps around my fingers.

“Rub my clit, Mav.”

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