Page 145 of Homecoming

“Bad ‘oh’?” His voice was rough.

“No. Definitely not.”

He smiled, fleeting and sharp, and leaned in to place his lips at the hollow of her throat. A slow, thorough kiss there, hot press of his tongue, and then he moved down. Lips trailing down her sternum – and then feathering out across the top of her breast. He licked her nipple before he sucked it into his mouth, and then he latched on hard, and Leah gasped.

Her neck felt liquid, and it was an effort to hold her head up, but she managed, eyes slitted stubbornly open though they wanted to close, because she couldn’t miss the sight of his golden head bent, of his lips pink and pursed against her. She was so, so sensitive there, and he seemed to know it, teasing at her with the edges of his teeth, little nibbles, and then hard sucks that had her thighs clenching where they were splayed on either side of his chest.

He went back and forth, from one nipple to the other, until she was slick, and gleaming, and sore. His hands petted her sides, and back, and her quivering stomach – and then found the button of her jeans and popped it open.

He didn’t lift his head to check this time, but he didn’t need to; could read the way she spread her legs a little more, and tilted her hips in offering. She gripped his hair with one hand, and the counter with the other, bit her lip and watched, pulse a hard, steady throb in her sex, where she was already wet and growing wetter.

He eased her zipper down, and folded back the halves of her fly. Leaned in to press butterfly kisses against the tender skin of her lower belly, just above the satin waistband of her panties.

“Mph.” She couldn’t hold back a shocked little sound, and she saw his lashes flicker in response.

He tucked his thumb in the waistband, and flicked it back and forth, lower, lower, lower…When he brushed her clit, she said, “God.”

He teased her there a minute, and she wasn’t too proud to squirm, to seek more contact.

Then he stood.

“Oh, come on–” she started.

He gripped her jeans in one hand, held her steady at the waist with the other, and tugged them down over one hip, and then the other. Leah braced both hands and lifted up, helping him, and then the jeans were down, and off.

He plucked at the toes of her socks – big purple flowers on white – grinned, then pulled them off. Both hands skated up her legs: shins, knees, thighs, to her hips. He found her gaze – and, God, his face like this, so wonderfully unfamiliar in its heat, intensity, and confidence. He knew he was good at this, was proud of the fact, and damn if she wasn’t going to eat it up and love every second.

His thumbs smoothed back and forth across the waistband of her panties, and he lifted his brows in silent question.

She was flushed – she could see the blush across her whole body, from her peaked, aching nipples, to her belly, and thighs. She was panting, but she managed to say, “If you don’t, I’ll hit you.”

His grin was a wicked flash of teeth, and then he skimmed her panties down with a few expert movements, dropped them, and it didn’t figure in her mind to worry about sitting totally naked on her kitchen counter, because he was urging her thighs wider, and stepping between them, touching her face with one hand – and the very top of her thigh with the other.

Again, her breath caught. His gaze arrested hers, and so she was looking only at the blown-out blue ring of his irises when his hand shifted inward, and he brushed her wet sex with the backs of his fingers for the first time.

Even that bare contact had her inner muscles contracting, and her pulse skipping erratically.

He touched her again, fingertips this time. Bolder. Explored her folds, gliding through the wetness there, slicker as more welled, as her body opened in anticipation of him. He found her entrance and tested it. Pressed in with one finger – and then two. Thrust in and out of her, slow and deep, his gaze never wavering, holding hers relentlessly.

She hadn’t expected this. He’d managed to surprise her again, because this wasn’t the fast tangle she’d imagined, sloppy kisses and fast thrusts and starbursts. He fucked into her with his fingers, over and over, and she knew he had to feel her clenching around him, and getting wetter, and wetter. Her lips parted, and she breathed in quick little gasps, every nerve alight and sparking, wanting. The pressure was building deep in her core, and this was so good – it felt obscene, almost, with his eyes locked on hers, his touch purposeful. If she hadn’t been so wildly turned on, she would have wanted to cover herself; thought fleetingly of grabbing his hair and dragging him into a kiss.

His thumb swept across her cheek, cool against near-feverish skin, and another understanding dawned. How many times had she called him a sex fiend? Joking, yes, but he was experienced – beyond experienced. People looked at him and saw beauty; and now people looked at him and saw the center of wild stories and debauched orgies.

Look at me, his gaze said.I can make you feel like you’re flying. Don’t pretend this is sweet and gentle with me, ‘cause it’s not.

He liked sex. He was damn good in bed, she’d realized by this point. He wasn’t used to fumbling around in the dark and praying for the Lord’s forgiveness afterward.

Let me show you, he seemed to say.

Okay, she thought, melting another fraction.Show me.

She wasn’t used to being encouraged in her pleasure like this, but she wasn’t afraid to try and figure it out.

She wet her lips with a deliberate sweep of her tongue. A little showy, but she was gratified by the way his eyes followed the movement. Then she spread her legs a little wider – his fingers plungeddeep, and she didn’t bite back a sound this time, a high little huff of breath – and sat up straighter, arching her back. She smoothed her hands up her stomach, her ribs, until she cupped her breasts. The movement drew his gaze, and his throat bobbed as he watched her caress herself; lift and shape herself.

She pinched one nipple hard between thumb and forefinger, and slid her other hand back down her belly, until she could stroke her own clit. He crooked his fingers inside her at the same time, and, “Oh, God,” she murmured. She moved as best she could, a roll of her spine, hips seeking, and then her chest. “Carter. Take your pants off.”

“Yeah.” He was grinding against the front of her cabinet. “Yeah, shit.”

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