The First Taste(18)

Her face is red, her mascara smeared under one eye. There’s a darkening spot on her chest from where I sucked whisky off. Her hair is the only thing that’s still practically untouched, and I make a note to mess it up good next time.

With a shudder, she starts to tremble.

“Shit,” I murmur, surprised at how breathless I am. For f*ck’s sake, I lift three days a week and get in cardio however I can. “You okay? Did I hurt you?”

“Am I okay?” she repeats. To my relief, the corner of her mouth lifts. “No. Absolutely terrible.”

“I’m serious.” I inhale a deep breath, trying to pull myself together, even though a wave of exhaustion overcomes me. Suddenly, I want a pillow, a bed, a warm body. I want to pass out, if only for a minute. I release her hips to take her face, pecking her forehead, then her cheek and finally, her mouth. I linger there, stroking my tongue over her bottom lip. Slipping my arm around her back, I hug her to me. A year is a long time to go without anyone’s touch. “How do you feel?”

This time, her voice is a murmur. Unguarded. “Good.”

“Good.” I squeeze her shoulder, massaging it a little, trying to bring her down. She’s no longer shaking, but she shudders a couple times. “Was it too much?”

“No. Just what I needed.”

We stay like that a moment. My eyelids sag, but I doubt it’s even nine. She’s been a lot of work, and I have zero complaints. It’s nice to put effort in for once.

“You can go,” she says. “You don’t have to do this part.”

My drooping eyelids fling back open as I straighten up. “Go?” I jerk back to see her better. “Are you kidding? This is my night off. That was just the warm up.”

She scrunches her nose and, I think, almost giggles. “Oh. Really?”

“I don’t know about your exes, but I’ve got a bit more stamina than that. Morning is a long ways off.” I pull out of her. “I’ll be ready again soon, and I have plans for you.”

Her skepticism melts away into an easy smile. “I like how you think you’re in charge. It’s cute.”

“Wasn’t so cute a few minutes ago, was it?”

I think she’s going to blush again, but I don’t get the satisfaction. Instead, she hops off the counter, shaking her head. “Okay. I’ll give you that one. But next time, we do it my way.”

“All right, boss,” I concede, knowing if she’s naked and I’m horny, there’s no way she’ll be ordering me around. “What’re we going to do until round two? I might need a power nap.”

She laughs, and her gorgeous, full breasts bounce a little. “You’re tired?”

“Exhausted. Aren’t you?”

“Not at all.”

“Hmm. Then a nap won’t work.” I look down, pinch the tip of the condom, and slide it off. “Trash?”

“Under the sink.”

I toss it. This is usually the time I leave unless I’m horny enough to stick around for another go. Coincidentally, or not, it’s also usually when the chick gets clingy, but Amelia seems to be at ease. Thank God. I like her, and I want to keep hanging out, but I don’t want her to turn into what I’m used to. Denise always tries to get me to stay the night, or worse, take a goddamn bubble bath. Apparently, it feels pretty good after sex. Eases the tension, according to her.

So f*cking girly and romantic.

But, I’ll admit, now that I’m thinking about it, easing the tension might be what I need. I just used muscles I haven’t in months, even with my most thorough workouts. And I’ll need them again shortly. A bath sounds oddly . . . perfect. After screwing like animals, is there a better way to come down? “Maybe we should clean up,” I suggest.

“Bathroom’s through my bedroom,” she says.

“What about you?”

“I feel okay.”

“Oh.” I nod slowly. “I thought maybe you’d want to clean up with me.”

“A shower?” she asks, dipping her head playfully. “I could do that.”

“Yeah, or . . . you know, not a shower.”

She blinks a few times. “What?”

I look around the kitchen. Since I’m not a teenage girl, I can’t exactly suggest we take a bath and certainly not one that involves bubbles. I sniff, pushing out my chest. “Never mind. You have any broken appliances that need to be fixed?”

“No,” she says drawing out the word, possibly suppressing a laugh. “Everything works fine. Sink. Toilet. Bathtub.”

I look back at her. “Bathtub?”

“Yep.” She leans against the counter. “It’s huge. One of the reasons we picked this apartment.”

“Cool.” We stare at each other. Shit. Soaking myself in hot water with a beautiful woman is sounding better by the second. Fuck it. “We should use it.”

“Use what?”

“The . . . tub.”

“You want to take a bath?” she asks, pursing her lips. Her cheeks round as her face reddens. “With or without bubbles?”

“Without, obviously.” I squint at the ceiling, pretending to check for cracks. Cracks could indicate a bad foundation, and I’d hate for her to be living somewhere dangerous. “Or with,” I add. “That would be fine too.”