Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)(34)

But I don’t want to stop touching her either.

I press my lips to her neck, imagining all the other ways I can kiss her. All the places on her body I can explore with my lips. The back of her thighs, her tight nipples, the top of her ass.

Between her legs when she’s hot and wet and hungry for me.

Like she was tonight. My God, I bet she’d have tasted like heaven on my tongue.

A moan escapes my lips as I brush her hair off her cheek and kiss the shell of her ear, fantasizing about kissing her all the fuck over.

Murmuring, she turns to me, maybe still asleep, but maybe awake enough. Her lips find mine, and she brushes hers against me, whispering, “I was dreaming of kissing you.”

Whatever resolve I have—and it’s debatable whether that’s any at all—melts like the snow on a New York sidewalk. I kiss her, and it doesn’t end. It’s a long, lingering kiss, the kind that turns into yet another soft, deep, sensual one, then another. The kind that is scarily romantic but also hints of dirtier desires.

Her hands slide down my shirt, then slip under the fabric.

“Your belly is so sexy, I want to lick it,” she whispers, and I wish I could give in to everything. All my nerve endings spark and sizzle at the prospect of her lips, her tongue, traveling over me.

“It’s still the middle of the night,” I murmur.

“Let’s make the most of it.”

I reach for her hand, sliding it up, over, and around my stomach. Letting myself savor the intoxicating exploration of her traveling across my body.

“Mmm,” she murmurs as her fingers dip lower. “I believe in this too. Your cock.”

I. Die.

Her nimble hands slide over the front of my jeans, cupping my erection. I grit my teeth because it feels too fucking good. So good, in fact, that I should push her away, but I don’t.

Instead, I let her pop open the button to my jeans and slide her palm inside my briefs. I groan as quietly as I can as she touches my dick for the first time. Then, pleasure spirals as she wraps that soft hand around my shaft.

Nice and tight.

She grips me, and I see stars. I see planets. I witness supernovas.

Her blue eyes spark with such naughtiness that I let her stroke me once, twice, three times. The way she fists me makes my bones vibrate with something wild and hungry. I’m nothing but frayed electrical wires, sizzling, crackling.

“A little tighter,” I urge, and she grasps harder, strokes me faster.

The air evacuates my lungs in a hot rush as she reaches the tip. I let loose a gravelly groan as she slides back to the base. Hard, rough tugs.

A few more strokes, a couple pumps, and I could come.

That won’t do at all.

The image alone makes me find the will to remove her hand from my boxers. “Don’t think for a second I don’t want you to jack me off right now,” I tell her, and it’s a wonder I don’t whimper from the loss of contact. It pains me—my dick throbs and practically screams obscenities at me for not letting her finish the job.

She smiles. “Don’t worry. Your dick does good work communicating.”

I laugh as I tuck myself back into my jeans and do them up. “Yeah, he’s skilled in the fine art form of hard gestures.”

She laughs too. “I think I have a good sense of what he’s trying to say.”

“Let me just kiss you for a while.”

Not that kissing her is any less enticing. In fact, maybe it’s more so. It goes to my head. It fries my brain. It makes me think crazy, wild, romantic thoughts.

Dangerous ones.

But what happens in Vegas has to stay in Vegas. What happens after midnight stays in the dark. When morning comes, we have to return to Ally and Miller, friends, bandmates, and no more.

It’s still nighttime though, so I savor this kiss, this sweet devouring of her lips, her tongue, her mouth. “One more time.”

One more time turns into another minute, then five, then ten, until I yank her up from the couch, carry her to her bedroom, and settle her into her bed, planting my palms on either side of her. “If I stay, I will do unholy things to your body.”

She nibbles on her bottom lip. “Someday I’d like to know what those blasphemous things are.”

Someday.

That word makes my chest ache. I’d like that someday too.

But it can’t happen.

“We’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“Of course we will.”

Her certainty makes me grin. I bend down, plant one more kiss on her forehead. She smiles and sighs contentedly. “Goodnight, Miller.”

“Goodnight . . . hot stuff.” I head to the bathroom, wash my hands, and brush my teeth, since I have a toothbrush here. When I leave the room, I nearly jump out of my skin.

“Hey,” I say nervously to a sleep-rumpled Chloe, who rubs her eyes as she stands outside the bathroom door.

“Hi, Miller.”

“I’m just leaving,” I say quickly, maybe more defensively than necessary. I don’t know what she’s thinking, but I hope it’s G-rated.

“You can stay if you want. The couch is comfy.”

“I should probably go.”

“Do you want to hear something funny?” she says in a whisper, motioning to me.

“Sure, sweetie. Tell me something funny.”