Once Upon a Sure Thing (Heartbreakers #2)(38)

She doesn’t answer right away. I pace, running my hand through my hair, muttering c’mon. A few minutes later, my phone buzzes. She’s in the Lyft, and she’ll be here in ten minutes.

I head straight for the shower.

Pretty sure I heard somewhere that women like it when a freshly showered man answers the door.

Or one woman does.





Chapter 22





Ally



The doorman knows me, and tells me Miller’s expecting my arrival.

When I step into the elevator, I’m ready to bounce off the walls, to leap out of my skin. Everything in me is tight, coiled, ready to pounce.

All I can think about is sex.

And skin.

And lips.

As the elevator rises higher, I wonder if I’ve become a nympho in twenty-four hours. How have I spent my whole day trying to stop a reel of wildly erotic images of my best friend?

At the ninth floor, I ask myself if I felt this way from the night I met him.

At the tenth, I’m considering if this is the consequence of six years of longing bottled up and finally let loose.

At the eleventh, I nearly vault out of the lift, sprint down the hall, and rip his door off its hinges.

Calm down, girl.

I raise my fist to knock, and I hear the faint rumblings of his voice shouting, “Coming.”

Make me come, I want to scream.

When he opens the door, I’m looking at the most delicious benefit of my whole life—Miller, dressed in nothing but a towel. It’s white, slung low and tight on his hips, and reveals those abs and a hint of the V.

My throat goes dry. My eyes take a leisurely stroll along his carved body. A droplet of water slides down his chest, on a path between the grooves of his abs, stopping at the top of the towel. The wet ends of his hair curl. His face is scrubbed clean, but he hasn’t shaved, and I could get down on my knees and thank him because I love his stubble.

Love the scratch of it.

And I love, too, that I’ve now experienced the absolute sensory delight of a man answering the door, freshly showered, sexily clean, wearing only a towel.

In fact, I like this sight so much that my brain shuts off every thought but one.

Touch him.

Stepping inside, I slam the door, drop my coat, hat, and bag to the floor, and push him against the wall. I crush my mouth to his. He groans instantly, and then louder still when I make my intentions clear. Grabbing the towel, I yank it off, then gasp. Half a dozen musical notes are inked on his hip. Small, pristine tattoos. Mesmerized, I run my finger over them, humming.

Humming “Love Me Like Crazy.”

“You have your song on your body,” I say, a little amazed.

His lips curve up. “I like that song. Right now, I’d like your hands on my body.”

I wrap my hand around his hard-on. He growls.

I smile. “I believe it’s my turn.”

“Take it, baby. Take your turn.”

I do, getting down on my knees as I stroke his steel shaft. I look up at him. His eyes are hooded, his lids falling closed, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Fuck, baby. Let me feel that luscious mouth on me. Let me feel it now.”

I squeeze his cock, and a drop of his arousal glistens on the tip like a pearl. A bolt of lust darts down my spine. I’m a woman with a one-track mind, and I flick my tongue across that bead, licking him up.

I moan.

He harmonizes with me, and do we ever make beautiful music as I dive right into the heart of the song, taking his gorgeous cock all the way into my mouth.

“Ally,” he groans, threading his fingers through my hair. “This is what I pictured in the shower this morning.”

A thrill zips through me. “You thought of me doing this?” I draw him back in, savoring the hitch in his breath as I suck.

“This. You. On your knees.”

“What else?” I ask, eager for his dirty words.

“Licking you. Bending you over the bed. Fucking you on the pool table,” he says, and a pulse beats between my legs as I picture all of the above.

His eyes start to close, and his jaw twitches. He lets out a feral moan as I work his cock with my mouth and hands, stroking the base and cupping his balls as I suck.

“I picture tying you up. Don’t know why I want that. I just do.”

I want that. To be tied up, pinned down, and fucked hard. Fucked raw. Fucked to the ends of my desire. I want to give in to everything I felt for him years ago.

Every single thing.

Including this. There’s no weirdness, no awkwardness. We’re just two people burning with lust and giving in to it.

I drag my tongue along his shaft, taking him to the back of my throat. “Your lips, baby. Your lips are so fucking sexy. So fucking sexy I want to come all over them.”

His words make me suck faster, tighter. I want him to come and come hard. I give the base of his cock a squeeze, and then one deep suck to the back of my throat, and he grits out an orgasm alert.

“Coming. Now.” His body thrusts, then jerks to a stop.

Drinking him down, I let him flood my throat until he pulls me up, cups my cheeks, and stares at me with wild eyes. “How much time?”

He can barely talk, and I love it.

I glance at the nearby clock. “I need to leave in ten minutes.”