Page 85 of Crazy About Love (All About Love)

My knees sink into the pillow resting behind the small of his back, and I slide onto him with purpose, pressing my soft and ever increasing damp desire against his hard and ready body. A low groan rises from his chest, making the air around us snap and pop.

I breathe hard into his open mouth, holding as still as I can so I can tell him that everything that has happened between us has meant something, and this will too. Iwantit to mean something. This is the start of us, I hope. Not Theresa and Alec, friends. But Theresa and Alec, lovers. The words are much harder to say than I expected. I want to shout them out, but at the same time, they carry so much weight.

Alec’s hand flexes on my hip, massaging with just the right amount of pressure to get me to move. The first glide against his shaft bounces the words I was ready to say up into the air, and instead the only thing my tongue is capable of is heavenly expletives.

“Again,” he says, his voice laced with authority. The hands on my hips grip tight, but never force me into it, not that they would have to.

I press into him a second time, moaning with him as the sensation sends pleasure shocks up and down my entire body. I knock our belly buttons together, mash my breasts into the hard plate of his chest, pull on the ends of his hair, and whimper into his open mouth. His knees bend underneath me, locking me in place. I feel him flex his length, teasing me with its subtle rubbing. The moon peeks through the clouds right then, lighting up the faint smile on his face and the burning desire in his eyes.

I put my fingertips between our mouths, settling them on his bottom lip. Never have I felt so much contentment with another person. Contentment and craving all balled up in one. It hits me so hard it takes the breath clean out of my lungs—I’m about to truly make love for the first time.

I already feel that it’s so much more than I’ve ever experienced, and it’s not because of the perfect lighting or the fact that I haven’t had sex in a long while. None of what I’m feeling would ever have happened if this was with anyone else.

“Your turn,” I whisper to him. “Kiss me like you’ve always wanted to.”

His bottom lip quivers against my fingertips. “You sure about that?” He gives me the gorgeous Alec eye contact. “I’m not going to stop once I start.”

I drop my hand and lightly graze his lips with mine. “I don’t want you to stop.”

His cinnamon-scented breath releases in a long sigh against my mouth, and his lips close the small gap remaining between us. His warm tongue doesn’t waste time finding mine, and he probes with careful, sensual strokes, like he’s embracing every moment while it lasts. I feel a tug on my hem, and his careful fingers slide up my bare back until the crook of his elbow gets caught in the fabric of my shirt. The once gentle caress turns into a fiery grip, short nails digging into my skin. Our tongues stop dancing to duel over who can get closer, who gets more of this kiss. I lift my hips up and slam down on his lap, pumping over and over until we’re both in so much pleasure that our mouths can’t keep up. I can feel the sensation like it’s crawling under my skin; I’m so close to ecstasy but I can’t reach it with so many layers between us, but I don’t want to stop either. It’s a cruel joke that’s being played by the sexual universe, and I have to blink a few times at the ceiling to get myself to stop.

Sensing that I need to slow it down, Alec drops his knees, allowing me space to back up. I reach down automatically, needing to feel his hardness with my own hand. He throws his head back into the wall, swallowing hard, then pants at the ceiling with his eyes pressed shut.

I’m not a novice when it comes to hand jobs. Many years of “having fun” have given me plenty of opportunity. I have to admit, though, I never thought of how intimate one is until now. This isn’t a man I just met who will be long gone in the morning. This is my best friend. We know each other’s pasts, bad habits, and drunken nights. I know how he likes his coffee and how he can’t hit a F4 unless he hears it first, and I know that he feels like he’s falling behind his friends but that he’ll never admit it.

I know him, and I’m touching him knowing that we’ll face each other in the morning. That I’ll see him as my best friend, but something more now.Thisis intimacy, and I want even more of it. I want to know him as much in the physical sense as I do the mental and emotional senses.

I slide my hand out from his blue pajama pants, and I watch as he slowly tilts his head to catch my eye. My tongue snakes purposely across my lips, and I tuck my fingers into the elastic of his pants.

“Up,” I tell him, and he lifts his hips, letting me slide the bottoms off until he pops free. I lick my lips again, then bend forward. He catches my chin between his thumb and forefinger. His brow is knitted in the middle of his forehead.

“You don’t have to…it’s been a while, so I might—”

“I know.” I turn my head and kiss his palm. “Let me know when you’re close and I’ll stop.”

His body moves in silent laughter. “Torturing me?”

“In the best way,” I say with a wicked grin. Then I drop my lips to his perfectly cut stomach. He rolls his hips upward, reaching down with his long, masculine fingers. Sweet caresses tangle in my hair until my mouth opens over him. Then the soft hold turns rugged and commanding. It hurts a little, but it’s an encouraging sort of pain. I slowly slide my tongue around the head, lapping at the salty taste. His hips thrust farther upward, and his fingers dig ever more deeply into my hair. I follow his lead, letting him push me into the position he wants, feeling my own pleasure pool between my legs.

I’m in a state of complete ecstasy, almost as if I’m the recipient of this glorious oral play. I’ve seen Alec happy. I’ve seen him sad and angry and frustrated and joyous and exhilarated and scared and bold. I feel his moods as tangibly as if they were my own. When he’s happy, I am too. It’s who we are together—moving in one synchronized emotional rhythm. His pain is my pain. And his pleasure…

A low cry releases from his mouth, his head pressed far back against the wall, every muscle on his body taut, veins visible even in the dark. The sounds he makes echo in my own throat, as I’m getting off on his vulnerable and sexy-as-hell masculinity. He pulls on my hair, fighting between coaxing me on or forcing me to stop. The salty taste of him begins to overpower, and I quickly back away, obeying the promise I made to him before I went down.

I watch as he calms his breathing, his body slowly relaxing back into the sheets. His dark green eyes meet mine, and I realize that I too am panting like a dog. I run a thumb under my bottom lip to wipe away the residue, my breath coming fast and hard. The corner of his mouth picks up as he watches me, and he straightens his back, reaching out his hand.

“Can I?” he asks, tucking his thumbs into my waistband. I’m not sure if he’s asking to return the favor or if he’s just asking to take off my clothes. Either way, the answer is yes.

I nod, then push up so he can get the material around my butt. He pulls like he’s in a tug-of-war, yanking them off so quickly they make a whooshing sound before they flutter to the floor. His hands go right back to my body, finding the hem of my nightshirt and lifting it over my head. My nipples are tight and ready, and his eyes blaze and he goes absolutely slack-jawed at the sight of them. I inhale deeply, letting my chest align with his mouth in case he should choose to close the five-inch gap. He lets out a small laugh at my lack of subtlety.

His lips press lightly against one of the peaks, teasing me before his arms wrap tightly around my middle, and his weight pushes me back into the bedsheets. My hands smooth up his arms, squeezing the muscles he usually hides under a button-down. He has no idea how fit he is, no idea how incredible I feel when he wraps these arms around me. My hands won’t stop wandering over the hard hills of his body, pulling and rubbing and grabbing and clinging. I want to suck on his biceps, lick across his triceps, bite down on his quadriceps. I want to paint his entire body with only my tongue and lips as a brush.

His chest presses against mine, and my legs spread wide for him to settle between them, his mouth continuing to love on my neck. I could stay in this position forever, to have an endless stay underneath his perfect body. The undeniable feeling of safety and trust is nearly tangible, and I find myself curling into it, cocooning myself under his warmth.

He feelsso goodon top of me.

A wave of déjà vu hits. The thought sounds almost familiar, as if I’ve thought it before. Alec’s lips travel up to mine, and as the soft passion builds between our mouths, I realize this isn’t the first time we’ve been here. The memory floats back to me through a fuzzy, almost dreamlike lens.

I blink my eyes open, slowing down our rhythm, eyes watering for no real apparent reason. Alec notices my sudden trepidation and slowly pulls back, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek.

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