Page 27 of Fast Currents
“C’mon, hotshot,” she said, voice low and smug. “Show me the romance.”
There was no way to misinterpret that. She beckoned me toward the living room, and I blinked. Sure I was dreaming. A beat later, I followed like a docile pet. Her hips swayed, and she glanced over one shoulder, eyes dark with promise.
She pivoted, and one firm hand pushed me to the couch. I sprawled, knees spread, heart pounding. She slid a knee along my left thigh, then the right, straddling me like it was something she did every day.
So close. So far away.
And I still couldn’t quite believe this was happening.
The instinct to grab, to pull, made me clench my hands. The thrill of power in her eyes stopped me. Her lips quirked to one side, tormenting me with the need to see if her mouth tasted as richly of sin as I’d imagined.
My palms fell to her hips, tracing the outsides of her thighs, tempted to dive toward more intimate territory. Needing to see how far she’d push on her own.
Her breath hitched, pupils blowing wide, as if she were thinking about it too. She drifted closer, swaying toward me,her arms wrapping around my neck, toying with the freshly cut strands at my nape.
Our first kiss had been very public. More sweet comfort than heat. Over before I realized her mouth had covered mine. Tonight, we could take our time. Savor and sip. There were no gossips to worry about. That was my downfall. It was ample time to think about how long it had been since I’d kissed anyone.
Maybe she saw the flicker of uncertainty. Lucy arched her hips against mine, reminding me that part of me was totally on board with more kissing.
I threaded my fingers through her hair, letting the inky strands shelter us behind the waterfall. The world narrowed to the two of us, alone in our secret hideout. I loved the way her hair trickled through my fingers, soft and smooth. The shadow of a smile turned up her red lips, her eyes gleaming with challenge.
Running one palm along her cheek to cup her chin, I urged her forward until only a puff of shared breath separated us. She held my gaze, reflecting my own longing in the chocolatey depths. As if a hidden hand pushed “play,” we surged forward, mouths tangling in a kiss that was at once open and tender. Never ending and over too soon. Our lips slid and danced, each stroke a seeking and finding that left me feeling like I’d tumbled straight over a cliff. Into a free fall.
When we finally broke apart, panting, Lucy’s cheeks were flushed, and I couldn’t hide the tremble in the hand that cupped her chin.
By silent agreement, we dove forward again, devouring each other in a mix of playful nips, learning each other’s cadence and rhythm. What started as teasing turned lush and slow. More deliberate. We had all the time in the world.
A delicious heat built between us, part friction, part yearning, making me eager to strip off a layer. Discover what it would be like to touch more of her.
Slipping my hands beneath her white shirt sent Lucy surging back to my mouth. My fingers traced her waist, sliding over her torso to cup her breast, eager for more of her softness. She arched into me, straining for me to fill my hands with her fullness. I traced her nipple, pleased when she moaned softly into my mouth. Reaching for her hem, I started to work it up her rib cage, intending to strip it off her, but her hands stalled mine.
She broke away, breathing hard. The playful challenge from earlier was gone. I hated that she wouldn’t meet my gaze. My hands dropped away, hands clenching. Focusing on anything but my throbbing dick was difficult, but everything I was reading from Lucy screamed “stop,” even though she hadn’t said a word.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
She paused, and in that split second, my doubts crept in. For all my flirting, I hadn’t kissed a woman in years. Not since Jen. Maybe she’d been turned off by my fumbling.
“I don’t think I’m ready for naked time.”
She kept her face averted from mine, like her expression might reveal more secrets than she wanted to share. Her shoulders caved, her posture reminding me of someone anticipating a physical blow. Not embarrassment. Not regret. Shame.
I narrowed my eyes. Storm clouds gathered in my chest, anger pricking just under my skin. “Who hurt you?”
She laughed, the sound lacking any real humor. Thunder rumbled inside.
“It’s not like that.”
Something told me it was. Or close enough.
I traced the edge of an old burn along the back of her hand, the patch of skin shiny and smooth. A mark she didn’t bother to hide. I brought it to my lips, kissing it softly.
She glanced my way, stalling and tilting her head as she considered my expression. Lucy wasn’t ready to hear that her scars made her beautiful.
“I’m a good listener,” I offered, careful to hide the low roll of the lightning storm that wanted to break loose inside.
Her smile was weak, but I still counted it a victory. “It’s a story for another night.”
“So you’re saying we’re going to have another night?” I asked.
