Page 15 of Hot Stuff
Which tells me we’re going to have to figure out how to work together while sharing a bed because just looking at him, I know once won’t be enough.
Fisting the knot of my towel I step forward, the first step I’ve taken toward him since he arrived. A quick yank and my towel drops to the floor, and I’m grinning when I say, “It seems only fair I show you mine after you showed me yours.”
The laugh that erupts from Walker is short and sharp and in the next second it’s cut off by my mouth on his.
I don’t remember moving. Maybe it was him, maybe it’s his mouth crashing onto mine.
Doesn’t matter, the wet heat of our mouths plastered together, the sweep of his tongue on mine, the press of my naked body to his clothed one are the only important things.
My back hits something hard, pushing a burst of air from my lungs. Walker swallows the gasp, his mouth devouring mine with a greed I’ve never experienced.
He’s good, better than good, but it doesn’t feel practiced or new. It’s like our mouths have been kissing for years and this dance is one we know well.
One that’s as natural to us as breathing.
“Bed.” Walker pants into my mouth. “Where’s the bed?”
“Too far.” My hands scrabble at his shirt, pushing it up to dive beneath so I can get my fingers on hard, hot flesh. “The floor.”
He jerks back, his mouth leaving mine, and stares at me with fire in his eyes before he nods and takes us to the floor.
The timber is cool against my skin and goose bumps explode from head to toe. I shiver from the chill but in the few seconds I’ve stretched out on the floor Walker has stripped himself bare and the heat of him blankets me.
I take his weight; it’s a comforting crush I want—need—and when his cock presses against my slick flesh I’m helpless to hold in the moan of pleasure that escapes me.
He’s hot and throbbing, and instinct has me parting my legs so his length can slip deeper.
Rocking my hips, I rub my clit against his shaft, and with his tongue tangled with mine I race straight up and over the first peak. I buck and shudder, riding the high with a strangled cry.
Walker curses, fumbles around, then shoves a hand between us. His knuckles brush my swollen clit, sending pulses of pleasure shooting into my core so sharp I lose my breath.
I haven’t come down; it’s not as intense, but the spasms continue to clench my pussy, and without thought or instruction I lift my legs and wrap them around his waist, crossing my ankles near his shoulder blades. I grip the back of my knees and hold them tight.
I’m almost folded in half, and I thank years of yoga for my flexibility.
“Fuck.” Walker leans back, his eyes darting from side to side. “I want to look but I can’t wait.”
His words don’t make sense until he lines the tip of his cock to my soaked entrance and drives deep in one sense-jarring thrust.
The cry that bursts from my throat is raw and needy, and my fingers claw the back of my legs, my nails digging in.
“Want you with me,” Walker mutters. “Hands up above your head.”
“But—”
“I’ve got them.”
And he has. He slips his arms beneath my calves, his upper arms pressing against the back of my thighs to hold my legs in place, and plants his hands on the floor beside my head. Our eyes catch and we’re stuck for long seconds.
So much is said in that one look. It’s clear as a sunny day. Neither of us will be satisfied with just tonight.
I’ve never connected with a man the way I am with Walker. I don’t know him and yet…
I do.
It should scare me but doesn’t. I’ve never backed down from anything, and whatever this is with Walker we’ll work through it, see where it leads, because even though neither of us has said a word, we’re communicating.
I see his acknowledgment, his determination.
