Page 30 of Heat Exchange
He dared.
The button on her jeans popped and she hissed against his mouth. The zipper was harder for him one-handed, but he managed. All the while his mouth was on hers, and she couldn’t even think straight. All that mattered was the feel of his lips and the hand he slid down between her stomach and the soft cotton of her underwear.
“Aidan?” she whispered against his mouth.
“About a minute and a half left. I need to feel you, Lydia.”
Then his fingertips slid over her clit and she sucked in a breath. His teeth caught her bottom lip and she moaned, shocked by the intensity of her reaction to his touch. She knew it had been a long time, but she was already teetering on the brink. He slid a finger into her and she scraped her fingernails down his back, wanting more.
The heel of his hand pressed against her clit as he buried two fingers deep inside of her. She broke off the kiss, burying her face against his shoulder.
“You have to be quiet,” he whispered against her ear. “You are so fucking hot, Lydia.”
The orgasm hit quickly and she pressed her mouth to his shirt, willing herself to be silent as it shook her body. He nipped at her earlobe, chuckling softly when she lifted her face to take a deep, shuddering breath.
“That’s what I wanted,” he said, and then he kissed her again while pulling his hand free from her pants.
“You sure know how to make the most of two minutes.”
“I think we still have a few seconds left. Or we can shove all this crap in front of the door and do it again.”
“I’m not having sex with you in here. It doesn’t seem fair, though.”
“All part of my master plan to make sure you owe me a blow job.”
“Brilliant plan.” She dropped her forehead to his shoulder, still recovering.
“I got what I wanted for tonight.”
“I can’t believe it happened that fast,” she said with a tremulous laugh.
“It’s all that finesse I have.”
She wasn’t sure what it was, but it scared the hell out of her. If him touching her made her feel like that, what would actual sex be like? Explosive. Intense.Too much.She needed distance. “I guess so. I mean, you’re not even my type.”
“I was your type a few seconds ago,” he reminded her.
“You’re a firefighter, for chrissake. I can’t...definitely not my type.” She lifted her head and moved out of his arms.
“Don’t lump us all together.”
The light, teasing tone was gone, but it wasn’t enough distance. She needed more space to figure out what was going on. “You’re pretty much all the same. Reckless kids at heart, but with God complexes thrown in.”
In the space of a heartbeat, his face completely changed. Gone was the easy, sexy charm, leaving behind hard lines and a jaw that looked as if it had been carved from stone.
He put his hands up in asee,not touchinggesture and then took a step backward. “Yeah, you’re right. I’m not your type.”
“Aidan, I didn’t mean...I wasn’t trying to insult you.”
“Sometimes I forget how you really feel about firefighters. All you did was remind me.” He opened the door a crack and looked out into the hall. “I should get back before they send out a search party.”
He was gone before she could say anything else, and she slumped against the wall, the post-orgasm glow definitely extinguished. What a bitchy thing to say just because she got scared of how badly she wanted him.
She heard the squeal of the men’s room door and the water running in the sink. Then, a couple of minutes later, the squeal again and she caught a glimpse of him as he walked down the hall back to the barroom.
Resting her head against the wall, she tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over her lashes. She hadn’t meant to hurt his feelings, but it looked like she’d solved the problem of what to do about Aidan Hunt.
Chapter Eight
