Heidi's Guide to Four Letter Words(49)

I sigh, pulling my knees up to me and tugging the skirt of my dress over them.

“Okay, so, he probably, maybe wants to have sex with me. I’ve felt the evidence of his sexual desire a few times. I don’t know. I think I’m just feeling sorry for myself. Why am I doing this? He’s so perfect in every other way. I think I’ve read too many of those damn books lately. I want him to be like one of those alpha males. All growly and serious and breaking fine china just to have me.”

Aubrey lets out her own sigh on the other end of the line as I let my head thump back against the door with the phone pressed to my ear.

“You need to remember, the guys I write about—and most authors write about—they’re fictional, to an extent. We take what we know and we elaborate on it. We make it hotter. We make it more exciting. Life isn’t perfect, and neither are relationships. People see my gorgeous, famous husband and then read my books and think, ‘Wow, they clearly have non-stop sex that is always hot and their relationship must be flawless.’ I’m not going to write about how he farts in his sleep, and his idea of dirty talk is telling me it’s okay to turn the sound off on the football game while we have a quickie on the couch. I write my books that way, because it’s a fantasy. It’s a way to escape, and dream, and imagine. Life is pretty boring if you don’t have dreams, but you can’t get so lost in the hoping and dreaming that you completely miss what’s right in front of you,” Aubrey explains. “You said so yourself; he’s perfect. And you are one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Don’t let him not making a move on you ruin how far you’ve come. March your ass over to his house and ask him what the hell is up. Communicate. Say it with me, Heidi. Talk. To. Him.”

She’s right. She’s absolutely right, and I’m an idiot. All these stupid signals I’ve been trying to send him and mentally screaming at him is childish. I’m a grown woman, and I need to be able to speak my mind, especially with the guy I’m dating, or this will never work.

“You’re right. I’m gonna do it,” I tell her, pushing up from the floor. “I’m going to go over there and just come right out and ask him if he wants me.”

“That’s my girl!” Aubrey cheers. “Go get ’em, tiger.”

Ending the call, I toss the phone on the small side table by my front door, fling it open, and march across my yard, stomping up Brent’s porch steps with determination. I bang my fist on the wood, giving myself a little pep talk as I wait for him to answer.

You can do this, Heidi. You have no problem telling thousands of strangers every intimate detail about your life. Brent isn’t a stranger. You know him. You like him. And you want him to touch your butt. You just have to tell him to touch your damn butt already.

The door flies open when I’m still in the middle of my pep talk, throwing me a little off, but I quickly recover as Brent stands there in the doorway. He’s got earbuds in his ears, attached to his cell phone that’s in his hand, and his hair is sticking up all over the place like he was running his hands through it a million times. I feel a little bad that I interrupted whatever he was doing, but there’s no time for sympathy now. I’ve got a butt that needs touching!

“Listen, Brent. I need to know if—”

All of a sudden, Brent grabs my hand and yanks me toward him, cutting me off as my body slams up against his. He jerks the earbuds out of his ears with one pull of the wire hanging down beneath his chin and then tosses everything to the side where I hear his phone land on the hardwood floor with a very loud clunk that doesn’t sound very good.

Before I can get my bearings, one of his hands wraps around the back of my neck, his other arm bands around my waist, gripping me tightly to him, and his lips are crashing down against mine.

My mouth opens on a gasp of surprise, and he takes that opportunity to slide his tongue right in there and kiss me harder than he ever has before. There are sounds coming out of me I’ve never made in my life as he easily turns us, and my back is suddenly slamming into the wall behind me. I hear a picture frame rattle next to me on the wall, and I let out a squeak of shocked pleasure into his mouth.

It’s not broken dishes, but a smashed phone screen is just as good.

His tongue is swirling around mine in the most amazing way, each swipe probing deeper and deeper until I’m gripping the front of his shirt so tightly in my fists I’m surprised it doesn’t rip. Now I understand the meaning in romance books when a woman says she’s drowning in a man’s kiss. I feel like I can’t catch my breath, and I will happily go under and die right now if this is how I go. Right when I think it can’t possibly get any better than this, it happens.

Brent’s touching my butt! Brent’s touching my butt!

His hands grip my butt firmly, and he lifts me up against him, pressing me harder into the wall to anchor me in place. My legs wrap around his waist as he pushes himself between my thighs, and my arms fly around his shoulders to hold on tight.

B is for boner!

G is for grinding!

T is for tonguing! And thrusting! And oh my God, tits!

He completely devours me with his mouth while his hand comes up between our bodies and cups my breast in his palm, rubbing and massaging, while his hips are still swiveling and pushing between my legs, hitting just the right spot over and over again. My thighs tighten around his waist, and my hips respond to every move he makes, grinding and thrusting against him just as fast and hard. This moment is even better than anything I could have possibly imagined. Everything he’s doing to me feels so good, and I never want it to end.