Page 108 of Desserts for Stressed People

He really can read me like a book.

Rubbing my forehead, I smile at the floor. “Nothing, I’m sorry. It’s...”

He clears his voice. “Am I rushing it? Because I might have misread—”

“No!” I squeal in a swirl of panic. Trying to get my tone of voice to a calmer state, I shake my head. “No, you didn’t misread anything at all. Ireallywant to.”

He steps closer, sliding his arm around my back and grazing the knuckles of his other hand against my cheek. “Are you sure? We can just sleep. We’re both exhausted, and we’ve only been us for a week, plus—”

I throw my lips on his. Stubborn, considerate Shane. I know I won’t convince him this isn’t about him or sex. Not with words, at least. Instead, I passionately kiss him, sliding my palms down his chest. He lets out a moan, and just as I’m about to reach the hard length pressed against my pelvis, his lips find my neck and every thought flies out the window. It’s just him and me. Heaven and Shane. No aliases or masks or lies.

What wedohave, however, is too many clothes on us.

It takes me forever to get his tie off, and when I do, I mess with the buttons of his shirt, grunting against his lips in frustration.

“Let me,” he says, his tongue back in my mouth before I can agree.

My hands move to his jacket and discard it on the floor, then I drop mine with it. His shirt flies off quickly after, and when I unbuckle his belt, his face parts from mine. “I had a whole date planned.”

I slide the belt along his waist. “I know.”

“Dinner, at this romantic restaurant by the beach.” I unbutton his pants, his lips pressing against my neck, then my chest in a rush. “We were going to take a walk at the docks. And there is that small amusement park. I got two tickets.”

“It sounds so sweet, Shane,” I whisper, pulling his pants down.

He holds the nape of my neck until my lips are an inch from his, the warmth of our bodies mixing. “I wanted it to be perfect.”

I nod. I understand this isn’t what we pictured for tonight, but there’s also something else to consider. “Shane, I can’t wait anymore.”

“Me neither.” He pushes me onto the bed and follows me down. Pulling my dress up my body, he breathes, “Off. Off.”

I get it. Speaking is challenging. I wish I could tell him how thoughtful it was of him to think of such a cute date for us. That this is perfect and we don’t need a romantic date to make it better. Instead, I grind against him, getting familiar with his body on mine. The words won’t come to me.

“Heaven,” he says, his eyes rolling down my body in adoration as soon as my dress is off. His gaze feels like sex already. Moving his big, warm hands up my stomach, he trails his tongue between my breasts. I whine, his hot breath fanning over the spot he wetted with his saliva. “Does it feel good here?”

I squirm as he does it again, his eyes flickering with delight.

His fingers travel to the clasp of my bra, his other hand pushing on my shoulder blades until my back is arched. When he slides it off me, his gaze is dark, his pupils blown wide.

“Which way is better?” he asks. “This...” When he sucks the tip of my breast into his warm mouth, I moan gruffly, surprised and pleased in equal measure. “...or this?” He twists his tongue over my nipple, my fists grasping his soft, thick hair and tightening.

“This,” I say without a hint of hesitation. “This is better.”

He does it again and again, on one nipple and onto the other, as quick, uneven breaths shake out of his lips. When his teeth pinch, I buck my hips up to meet his body.

Everything about this man is divine. I drive my hands through his locks and hold on to his wide shoulders, and I can’t even feel nervous. My brain’s off. Gone on holiday.

His fingers dangle against the waistband of my underwear, his kisses trailing down my body until he’s crouched between my legs. I flinch as his stubble prickles the skin of my inner thigh, and once he presses the first pecks on my thigh, I pant so hard you’d think he’s already there.

“Is this okay?” he breathes.

It’s more than okay. It’s embarrassing, because his breath is scorching hot against me even with my panties still on, and his fingers are rubbing against the soaked fabric, damping it further.

When I nod, he slides the pink fabric down my legs, spreading them wider once the last layer of cotton between his eyes and me is gone. “Heaven,” he whispers in reverent surprise. “You’re...”

“Sorry. It’s—” Warmth spreads to my cheeks, and I quickly shake my head. “We’ve been waiting for a while and...”

His eyes darken as he moves closer, his hands stroking my thighs. When his tongue laps flat against my sensitive, slick flesh, my legs almost give out, my brain snapping shut in a second.

---