He pressed his erection against her soft mons. “Decide.”
“Finn…Is this smart?”
“Talking too much. Thinking too much.” His mouth moved to her ear and he licked the lobe. “It’s simple. Sex, or no?”
“Neither…one…” Her head tilted to give him better access to her neck.
“Neither one what?” He licked along the pale column.
“A word…you said I could use.”
He smiled against her lips as he kissed her. “Add ‘sex’ to the short list.”
A heartbeat passed. A second one. Then her arms slid up his chest as she offered her mouth to him again. “Oh, fine. It’s Christmas, isn’t it? Please, Finn. More.”
So many words when only a single would do. Wasn’t that just like a woman? But as he went lip-to-lip, need exploded inside him again like sound inside an echo chamber, reverberating like another pulse. Reminding him this wasn’t just any woman in his arms. This was Bailey.
Her mouth opened under the pressure of his and he swept his tongue along the slick surface of her teeth. He tickled the underside of her upper lip and she crowded closer to him. His hands fell to her ass and he tilted her hips against his, grinding against her with no more finesse than a teenager dry-humping his way through a slow dance. His cock pulsed. Ready to go. Ready to go off.
He groaned, pushing her away. “I need air.”
Her palms flat against the door, she leaned back, her mouth red, her breasts heaving in that pretty dress.
And just like that, touching her was imperative again.
There was a wide belt at her waist. He pretended not to notice his shaking fingers and her shuddering breaths as he unfastened it. When he peeled it back, it took the sides of the Bailey-blue dress with it, unwrapping the garment like the petals of a flower.
Underneath the fabric she was wearing a strapless, black lace bra, matching panties, thigh-high stockings that clung to the sweet inner flesh of her legs.
Heat flashed over him. He’d never seen the Girl Next Door in black lace. Then it had been tiny undershirt bras. Cotton panties with rainbows or clouds.
Now it was pushed-up here, pulled-high there, all designed to knock-him-over, suck-him-under, do-him-in.
As he backed away, his hand grabbed the center of his chest. “You’re killing me.”
She smiled. Brazen. Grown-up. And took a step forward.
Leaving the dress behind. In slow motion, Finn watched it slide off her rounded shoulders, catch on the bend of her elbows, tickle along her forearms to drop to his hardwood floor. The second step of her black high heels cracked like a gunshot.
Time sped again, and he found her in his arms. Fragrant. Hot. He buried his face in the valley between her breasts and pressed his lips together to keep words from rushing out.
You. Me. Past. Present. Anything. Everything.
“Bailey.” He mouthed it against her hot skin, feeling the fast tattoo of her heart against his lips. “Bailey.”
Her hands stroked his hair and he lifted his face, needing her mouth, needing her taste to distract from all the emotions that threatened to overtake him. Sometimes he drank, sometimes he drove too fast, but this time he had Bailey to make him forget.
He bent his knees and curved one arm around the back of her thighs, the other around her shoulders, and lifted her against his chest. Bed. Yeah.
But the shortest route took him past the couch in the living area. A vision flashed in his brain. Bailey in her black lingerie. Bailey in her black lingerie and on that slick black leather of his couch.
There was a distraction sure to make him forget an entire lifetime of unrequited emotion and what-might-have-beens.
She sucked in a breath when he set her on the cool, slick surface. But he was there to warm her up, his knees on the floor and pushing her thighs apart to move between them. All the better to take her mouth again.
It turned him on even higher, heat shooting up his spine, his cock going harder, that she was near-naked and he was fully clothed, her body sandwiched between his and that firm, motorcycle-black leather. Bracing his palms on either side of her head, he shifted his mouth to make the fit of the kiss their fit, falling naturally into the familiar angle that fused their lips. Like old times.
No. His hand drifted down to trace the edge of her stocking.
New times.
He sat back on his heels and lifted one of her ankles to tip off her shoe. Then the other. His hand slid high so his fingers could curl under the elastic lace at the top of her leg. He glanced up at her face. Then froze.
Her big blue eyes were watching him.
She never watched. She always closed him out when it came to undressing, just as she always swallowed the sounds of her passion.
New times.
His heart shuddered, and without looking away from her intent gaze, he rolled down each of her stockings. Then his hands traveled back up bare skin.
“Finn,” she whispered, as his thumbs met over the triangle of her black panties.
“Hmm?” He broke their gaze as he stroked over the lace, compelled to watch his fingers move. He heard her gasp as he tucked his thumbs under the stretchy fabric and found other petals, already opening, already wet. He rode their slickness, down, then up, opening her more and finding their hard little center. He leaned in to kiss the place, still covered by the panties. His tongue stroked the damp lace. Such a sweet flower.
“Finn.”
He glanced up. His breath caught.
She was still watching him. An odd spike of embarrassment jolted through him. Had she ever known how much he worshipped her body? How much power that gave her over him? Could she tell now?
“Like that,” Bailey whispered. “Please. There. More.”
His heart jerked. Bailey. Watching. Asking. Without breaking their gazes, he continued playing beneath her panties, playing with her, sliding, circling, drenching his fingers in her arousal, until they were slick with the feel of her and he was intoxicated with need.
Her fingers flexed into black leather, her eyes long since having turned from blue to dark. “Finn,” she said again. Then she leaned forward and twined her fingers in his hair. “Sex.”
Desire spiked. He caught her panties in one hand and yanked them down her legs, scooting back to pull them free. His jacket, tie, and shirt flew across the room. Then he fumbled with his belt, his zipper, freed himself so that his cock was heading straight for heaven. Kneeling between her legs again, he flipped open the front clasp of her bra and filled his palms with her creamy breasts. He fingered the stiff crests, then couldn’t resist tasting them, which meant tasting her too, as he licked and sucked the lingering dampness he’d transferred there from his hands.
She stroked his hair and it was so good. So good.
He leaned closer, his cock kissing her wet heat. They both groaned. He gripped her waist and pulled her nearer to the edge of the seat cushion, then he lifted his head to look into her eyes as his hips flexed, starting to push-
“Condom,” they said together.
Finn’s muscles locked up. He commanded himself to move back. He didn’t want to move back.
“I’m-” They spoke together again.
“-on the pill.”
“-clean, hospital says so.”
Bailey inhaled a shuddering breath. Her palms caressed his hair. “Come to me.”
He sank into her slick heat. Tingles shot up his spine as his nerve endings registered the sensation. Tight like a fist. Wet. So soft. No condom. Tight, wet, soft. Heat.
Finn and Bailey.
Bare and bare.
Her muscles fluttered around him but he resisted the urge to move. Instead he trailed his knuckles over her cheek. “Okay?”
Her top teeth biting into the pillow of her bottom lip, she nodded.
But, damn it, now silence wasn’t going to work. “Talk to me, baby.”
She smiled, a gentle finger tracing the strap of his eyepatch. “More, Finn. More sex.”