Page 33 of Snow Much Trouble
Then he disappears, running up the stairs and returning a minute later with a condom in his hand. He pulls me down onto the floor. We sink down onto the nest of blankets and pillows we'd created the night before, and he pulls me into his lap. I straddle him, my hands in his hair, kissing him like I'm trying to make up for every boring date, every disappointing relationship, every minute I've spent not kissing Dylan Lennox.
His hands slide under my sweater, warm against my skin, and I arch into his touch.
"Is this okay?" he asks, his voice rough.
"More than okay." I pull back just enough to tug my sweater over my head.
Dylan's eyes go dark. "Jesus, Lauren."
I'm wearing a burgundy lace bra that matches my sweater, and from the look on his face, it was absolutely worth the extra effort this afternoon.
“I might be speechless,” he says, running a finger over the swell of my breast. “I…wow. Just wow.”
“I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“You’re incredible.”
"Your turn," I say, tugging at his shirt.
He strips it off in one smooth motion, and I take a moment to appreciate what I'm seeing. Broad shoulders, defined chest, those abs I caught a glimpse of yesterday. He's gorgeous, and he's looking at me like I'm the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.
"Come here," he says, pulling me back down.
We kiss until we're both breathless, his hands roaming, first cupping my breast and teasing at my nipple, before slipping between my thighs. When he presses his thumb against the seam of my jeans, I gasp and break off the kiss. I need more.
“Take my jeans off.”
We help each other out of the rest of our clothes, laughing when my jeans get stuck on my ankle, groaning when Dylan fumbles with my bra clasp.
That seems to ease something between us. We're not performing for each other. We're just… us. Two people who like each other, snowed in together, choosing this.
When we're finally skin to skin, Dylan pulls a blanket over us and takes his time, kissing his way down my neck, across my collarbone, lower.
His finger teases between my thighs, and dips inside me, making me gasp with pleasure.
“You like that?” he murmurs.
“Hell, yeah.”
“Then you’ll really like this.” Dylan lowers his head and eases his tongue over my slit.
I about jump out of my skin it feels so good. “I do like that,” I agree, allowing my head to loll back and my eyes to drift closed.
He creates a slow and steady rhythm, kissing and licking my thighs, sucking my clit, sliding his tongue deep inside me. The man has a gift and I’m not talking about his cooking. Tight coils of heat form low in my belly and I’m moaning softly, relaxed and languid, boneless under his touch.
When he adds a finger to tease inside me, I shatter in a slow, rolling orgasm that takes my breath away.
“Oh, my God!” I cry out. “Dylan.”
Long delightful seconds later, he pulls back and smiles up at me. It’s a satisfied smile. “That was fun.”
“It really was. I should have known you'd be good at that. You are a smooth talker.”
He laughs softly and kisses me, a deep, intense kiss that is somehow both sexy as hell and sweet.
Then he’s easing between my thighs with that impressive cock I briefly felt the day before against my backside.
“Quit stalling,” I tell him, reaching down between us and giving him a squeeze.
