Page 82 of No Interest in Love

“Blazing hell…” she mutters. “I like that.”

“Told you I had mad skills,” I whisper along her collarbone.

A small laugh tumbles from her lips, and she pushes a finger up against my mouth so I stop with the arrogance. I kiss it, bite at it, and she presses her hands on my cheeks, nails digging into my hair and leaving chills up and down my spine. Her teeth take hold of my bottom lip, and then she sucks on it, messing up my equilibrium. My legs give out, and I slide us down the door, groaning until my ass hits the carpet. Her knees automatically touch the floor on either side of my hips, and her butt rests against my thighs. She releases my lip and her tongue swipes over her own, and she closes her eyes and sighs. Her face is higher than mine for the first time ever, and I like the view. I like her messed-up hair, the flush of her neck, the ragged rise and fall of her chest.

I’m absolutely…

…gone.

Words are no longer a priority, but they come out anyway, like always.

“I liked that.”

“It’s my mad skills,” she says in a horrible impression of my voice. I grin and gently coax her face back to me. Her tongue prods my lips, trying to pry my mouth open, and it works because I’m laughing.

“Demanding even in bed,” I say, then meet her tongue before it retreats behind her teeth.

“We’re not in bed.”

“Always an argument.”

Her eyes narrow in that adorably frustrated way, and she takes the hand I have pressed against her cheek and forces it under the hem of her shirt.

“Touch me, damn it,” she says, and gives me one hard kiss on the mouth. “And shush.”

I laugh again before setting my other hand on her waist and pulling her hips to line up just right with mine. Her nails run through my hair, grip the strands, and keep my face close. Her tongue gets my lips open without a laugh this time, and she pushes herself tight up against me, knocking my head against the door, making my hands drift down to her killer ass.

These shorts are my new best friends.

“Dayum,” I say, letting my palms cup this ass made from heaven itself.

“Mmm…Yeah.Iwouldn’t need a butt double,” she teases. I pinch it once, making her squirm. But then I squeeze it hard when her lips drop back to mine, and she lets out a sound I’ve never heard from her. And this adorable woman has now taken my heart that I just got back and put it in her pocket.

Her tongue snakes out and she drags it up my neck to my ear. I’m gone again. Like some kind of acid trip. She has me tastingcolors. Soft blues and greens, then she hits me with scorching reds and yellows. My hands have somehow left her heaven-sent ass and are now gripping her ribs, trying to get her to slide up onto my lap, even though the first contact through jeans will probably have the Smurfs jumping the gun and I’ll do something I haven’t since I was a teenager. But…I need relief.

After I silently argue with her for twenty very long seconds, she finally relents and presses down. Her hips start moving in the same rhythm as our tongues, and I thought I’d be helping her, encouraging her, because hell, it feels so damn good, but the Smurfs are locked and loaded, and their finger’s on the trigger, and I swear one more thrust is gonna be the last.

Where’s my brain? I have to start thinking of dead puppies, hairy dudes in Speedos, liver and onions, but no visual can penetrate the feel of Shay’s body and the bright red color I taste.

My hand slips from her ribs to her stomach. My thumb trips over the piece of metal by her belly button. Suddenly I’m fifteen, and I can tell the river’s about to flow, and I don’t even want to stop it, even though I’m going to get hell for it. I haven’t even touched her boobs yet.

But then her hips stop, and my boys pause on the trigger.

She breathes fast and heavy near my lips before her head falls to my shoulder. Maybeshejumped the gun. If so, high five, boys! We made it.

My fingers twitch against her stomach, and her hand slides from the wall and slaps around my wrist.

“You okay?” I pant.

She nods into my shoulder, then starts taking deep breaths. Her long exhales cool the sweat accumulating in the fabric of my shirt.

“Um, I think I need a minute,” she says.

“That good for ya, huh?” I tease, but she doesn’t laugh, so I wonder if she’s embarrassed or something. Nudging at her head with my cheek, I manage to get her to look at me. Her cheeks are bright red, loose hair stuck in sweat along her forehead, and she doesn’t look like I just sent her to heaven and back. Actually, she looks like she’s gonna…

A long and loud grumble vibrates against my hand on her stomach, and she purses her lips together, shutting her eyes. She covers her mouth with a couple of fingers and shakes her head, muttering something in Korean.

“Food baby kicking?” I ask with a breathless laugh, and another grumble answers me. Oh shit, the color in her face is draining pretty quickly. “You gonna ralph?”

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