Page 9 of Just Like You
Was I?
Apparently it didn’t matter since I was suddenly back to clinging around his neck and mauling his mouth. My arms clawing at his shoulders as he slowly lifted me up, his large hands now cupping my arse. My feet no longer bearing weight as my legs crossed behind his back, like this was a choreographed dance we both knew. As natural as breathing.
And there went my case off the bed onto the floor, and now I was suddenly bouncing on the bed as he crawled on top of me. His mouth back on mine, his hands almost brutally slamming my wrists down over my head.
I should have been frightened. I should have been terrified, but strangely I was turned on, to the point where I felt lightheaded.
Weirded out.
Horrified at myself. But then who was I kidding? My hoodie got zipped down and yanked over my shoulder as his mouth latchedon to the skin over my collarbone. Hard kisses on my neck. My dick straining in those joggers that all of a sudden felt too freaking warm. Too restrained against the heat surging through my bones.
The weight of him on top of me was crushing, another thing that should have set off my self-preservation instincts. Instead they made me try to wrap my legs around him tighter, my body revelling in the friction he gave me. The hardness of him against me dialling me up another notch.
Ridiculous.
Horny.
Ludicrously hot, to the point where I was sweating yet cold. Where his lips left my skin, and I shivered, wanting them straight back.
I got my wish. Over and over again. Then he rose up, ditching that jacket. My fingers made swift work of the buttons on his shirt, but he grew impatient and ripped the last one. Underneath, a cotton undershirt. Goddamn, this man and his layers.
“I need you naked,” I demanded.
“So impatient, Julian.”
I shivered when he called me that. Loved his breath on my skin. The weight of him back as he shimmied out of his trousers, just enough that I could rip his underwear over that delightful arse.
He was big. Huge, everywhere. Shoulders for days. Legs. And a cock that I didn’t dare go eye to eye with in case I chickened out.
My arse twitching.
Goddamn it. Freaking hell.
Not where I thought I would end up this afternoon. Evening. Middle of the night, whatever the time was in the time zone my head was in. I’d clearly lost the plot as he once again lifted off me, finding himself on all fours on top of me as I escaped the last of my clothes, like we’d planned this. Like he moved and I instinctively followed. Dancing a dance we’d known…
What was I on about? I let a giggle escape and caught the smile on his face.
He looked happy. What was wrong with me? More likely, what the hell was wrong with Kieron Andrieu?
Chapter Four
Kieron
This…man was…infuriating, I’d realised from the very second I’d put my hands on him…or set eyes on him; my memories were slightly cloudy here, my dick ridiculously hard at the sight of him splayed out below me.
He’d lost his glasses, now squinting trying to focus on my face as I probably drooled down on him, no hands left to control the bodily fluids that I was no doubt coveringhim in.
I had no control. All but gone, since he’d appeared out there in the corridor like some angelic vision… In a tracksuit.
Tight around that arse of his. The curvature of his mouth. Those eyes. So bloody cute.
“Ehhrr.” I tried to swallow and figure out how you said things like this, because. Yeah. “I’m usually better prepared, but this time…”
“You mean to say…” He shuffled underneath me, moving up the bed until we were in a more equal position. His head on the pillows. Me?
I gently laid myself down on top of him. His smaller frame cradling my body, like we were meant for this. My chest fitting perfectly around his tiny waist, my chin coming to a rest against his chest.
He smelled of soap. Water. Man. Everything I had hoped for.
