Page 25 of Last First Love
It didn't sound that way when he basically pleaded with me to let him put his hands on me. Or his mouth. Or whatever it was that he was suggesting just now that had me feeling all hot and bothered.
But he's still sitting at the table, staring at me with those ocean blue eyes of his. I could drown in the depths of his gaze, especially when he's giving me a look like he wants to taste me again. Like he's dying for me to tell him yes to all the questions I see sitting in his eyes.
I slide into the open door, never dropping his gaze. I can feel my blood thrumming in my veins, making me molten between my thighs. I wonder if he feels it too. Only one way to find out, I guess.
"Aren't you going to come inside?"
He stands up so quickly that the little bistro chair falls over backwards with a clatter. His fists are clenched and he's breathing hard, as though I've punched him. "Are you sure about this?" he asks, his voice roughened with need.
I'm not sure about any of this, but I'll be damned if I'm not going to take this incredibly hot as hell man into my house and kiss the hell out of him. I don't see any way not to do that given the pretty words he gave me during our taco picnic. And let's be honest. He pretty much had me at taco picnic.
But I don't say any of that because it makes me feel a little bit anxious to even think those things, let alone let the words out. Instead, I settle for a small shrug of my shoulders that apparently looks enough like a yes that he strides toward me, then leans down to kiss the top of my head.
"Let me clean up first. I'll be right there."
I make a small noise in the back of my throat and he chuckles. "All right. You win. Fuck the tacos. We can always get more tacos another day."
He moves away from me just long enough to bundle up our picnic in the tablecloth itself and then shoves the entire mess back into the picnic basket he brought. I can hear the clink of the votive and take a few minutes to hope that it's not hot enough to cause any problems.
I mean, that would be awkward right? Me, trying to get frisky with a hot firefighter and thereby causing an actual fire on my porch?
Yes, super awkward. And I know that's kind of my thing, but maybe not tonight. I let my eyes roam all over his tall, stacked like a brickhouse body and briefly entertain the idea of what happens once he comes inside my house.
And as quickly as that thought comes and goes, he's pressing up against me, backing me into my own house until my back meets a wall, jarring some pictures nearby.
He's hot and tall and so fucking eager for me that he's already pulling at my clothes, sliding the shoulders of my shirt down to bare my skin to his touch, his mouth.
I shiver at the intensity of his attention. I feel like I've been living my entire life in the dark until now, when all of the sudden Ken Daniels comes in and turns on all the lights in the world, leaving me blinking and gasping at the suddenly vivid colors all around me.
His beard is a little ticklish along my neck, but his teeth certainly aren't. A few well-placed bites along the line from my ear to my shoulder have me writhing and moaning under his expert touch.
He makes me feel like I could burst into flames right now. All I'm doing is standing here, pressed against the wall, and aching so fiercely to be touched, owned by the man in front of me that I can't even string together an entire sentence at this point.
"Lily," his voice passes over my skin in a whisper, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "You taste even better than you look, and there's nobody here this time to stop me from tasting all of you."
His words set off fireworks inside my veins, and I press my eyes closed as I sink into the heat of his voice. "I want you to do that. I want you to taste every part of me, Ken. I've been waiting too long for this."
At that, his hands slide underneath my shirt and he cups my breasts. They're not small by any stretch of the imagination. Even in his big, work-roughened hands, I can feel the flesh overflowing his hot, needy grasp. Then his thumbs move to stroke my nipples and I cry out.
Ken covers my mouth with his, stopping the sound with a kiss that leaves me wet and aching. And still his two hands move against my nipples, tugging and pinching until both tips are hard, aching points. The feeling is quickly getting overwhelming because he's everywhere right now. His tongue stroking against mine, his callused fingers rubbing against my breasts, and his hot, hard length throbbing insistently at the vee between my legs.
We finally part from one another and without a word, he pulls my shirt over my head. I'm still in my jeans, but now all that's keeping me from his burning gaze is a thin, satin and lace bra the color of cotton candy. But he reaches between us and lifts my breasts free from my bra too, until the sharp, aching nipples are exposed between us and he's staring at them like he's never seen nipples before.
Well, he's never seen my nipples before at least. And frankly, I've never been this aroused from a trip to second base. If Daniels is this good at figuring out what makes my body go crazy, then by the time we finally get naked and sexy with each other, I might actually collapse from pleasure.
As if he knows I'm already imagining having hot, sweaty, satisfying sex with him, Daniels meets my eyes again. "I thought you were beautiful even when you were dressed. But seeing you here, like this." He swallows hard, his throat moving in a way I want to trace with my fingers, my own mouth.
His right hand skims across my skin, tracing one side then the other of my exposed breasts, now served up for him on the platter of my bra. I shiver at his touch, the heat in his eyes. He's moving too quickly, but also far too slowly to give me what I need.
"You're a dream come true, Lily. Every time I think it can't get any better with you, it always does." He reaches for my face and cradles my cheek gently in one of his hands, then lets his hand drift into the strands of my hair.
This feels so tender, like he's actually closer to worshipping me than trying to bang me into next week, and I can't help but feel both completely overwhelmed by this and also more than a little worried about what happens next.
He's way smoother than the average guy, perhaps because he's always been known for his flirting. But honestly, I don't think he's meant any of it. How am I supposed to draw the line tonight between what he really means and what's just pillow talk? Because I want him to mean all those heart-stopping things he said during our picnic.
I want him to want me exactly as I am. I need for him think I'm beautiful today, not that I could be beautiful if I'd finally lose some of this weight.
I sigh at the tenderness of his touch and let my eyes drift closed again. I can't let him see all these feelings that must be as plain on my face as anything. I've never been good at keeping my emotions bottled up, and now here's my childhood crush, dragging me headfirst into some serious adult level steamy moments.
