Page 42 of Surviving Slater
I walked to him and put my hand into his. He tugged me closer. The feel of his strong fingers wrapped around me sent a shiver of anticipation through me. His eyes dropped to my lips before they connected with mine again.
We were so close. His hand rested on my hip, my hands flat against his chest.
"You have this ability to make me think of nothing else other than this," he growled in a whisper before he kissed me. His mouth slanted over mine, and I gripped his shirt.
His hand resting on my hip slid around my waist, pulling me closer. My lips moved against his as his free hand slid up and gripped me behind the neck. He deepened the kiss and his tongue swept against mine. My stomach flipped. I craved the sweet addictive taste of him.
Pulling away, he looked down at me. My breathing was rapid and uneven. He smiled at me, confident in how he could spin me out of control.
I gripped his shirt and pulled him down to press my lips against his. His hands skimmed down my sides before he gripped my butt. I felt his want for me and I slid my arms around his neck.
All rational thinking went out the window. All that remained was a physical need to be as close as humanly possible to him. He lifted me, and my legs wrapped around his waist. A few steps and I felt the kitchen counter beneath me.
His mouth moved over mine as our tongues tangled. He gripped the bottom of my shirt and broke away from me only to remove my shirt before his mouth trailed down the side of my neck.
The sensitive skin beneath his hot mouth tingled. I groaned and angled to give him better access.
"Tell me what you want," he commanded, gently cupping my lace-covered breast.
"You," I breathed. "I want you."
He smirked at me. The devilish look in his eyes made my heart stutter. He unhooked my bra. For a moment his eyes rested on my breasts before he closed his mouth over one nipple. The slight sucking motion made me gasp.
Want rocked through me. His hands slid beneath my skirt. They gripped my panties and slid them off.
Feeling vulnerable and exposed, I tried to push away the familiar darkening thoughts.
He stepped closer. His fingers trailed across the most sensitive part of me. I gasped, gripping the counter as I leaned back slightly, consumed with what he was doing to me. One finger slid inside me, and I gasped again.
"So ready," he whispered.
He unzipped his pants and donned protection he fished from the back pocket of his jeans.
Our mouths connected in a kiss as he stood between my open thighs. I wanted him so badly I felt like I was going to combust on the spot.
His tongue caressed mine. He moved me closer to the edge of the counter as I threaded my hands through his silky hair. He pushed into me and I gripped his hair tight, feeling his fullness fill me.
I pressed my eyes closed, trying to push back the memories from my childhood that made me want to slip away to protect myself. But there was no fighting them.
He slid into me, filling me completely as I felt my mind close off from him, my subconscious seeking my safe place as he continued to kiss me. His fingers pressed firmly into the skin of my hips as he held me in place.
In a protective bubble, the experience wasn't as real. His body thrust into mine. I felt the exact moment my body started to tremble as I peaked. Just as I began to tighten my arms around him, I felt his body tense into mine as he growled softly. I gasped, trying to catch my breath as I let go of the part of my mind that had been keeping me safe for more years than I wanted to admit.
Slater's head nestled against my neck. I hugged him, giving myself a few moments of affection with him before I would pull away, reasserting the lines of our agreement.
I let go of him and he lifted his head. Our eyes met as he disengaged himself. I got off the counter as he disappeared into the nearby bathroom to dispose of the protection. I grabbed my bra from the counter and put it on. Slater walked back out just as I picked up my panties from the floor before sliding them back into place.
I'd just had him not even a few minutes ago but the need to have him again struck me like a bolt of lightning. He picked my shirt up and handed it to me. I pulled it on and adjusted it, trying not to allow the awkwardness after the act to get to me.
"Thanks," I said. It didn't feel right but what else could I say?
He remained quiet while he studied me. I felt self-conscious as I grabbed my bag. He reached out and took my hand into his.
"Did I do something wrong?" he asked, and I frowned.
"No," I replied. Was he offended I was ready to leave?
"Twice you've done that to me," he said. I had no idea what he was talking about. "When we're together it's like you're not fully there."
