Under the Table(45)
“I thought it was time that I stopped being stupid and told you how I really felt about you, but I was having trouble finding the right words.”
“Message received,” Tristan said, his hands moving to the front of his shirt.
It was right about then that the tide turned and Zoey began to lose her advantage. A moment ago, his eyes were smiling. Now there was nothing but smolder.
“I like my guests to feel comfortable,” he said, his hands moving to his shirt. He began to work the third button, which was still fastened.
“Well, you were raised in the hospitality business,” she teased, her eyes now glued to his hands moving on to the next button down.
“One of us here is completely overdressed,” he said, and another button was released.
“Guess we better fix that.” She jokingly made like she was going to remove the apron but only pulled the skirt of it up to her thighs. She heard his sudden intake of air and then let it drop to her knees again. None of it stopped him from his task, but he did skip the last button and pulled the shirt over his head, taking his undershirt with it. She could only stare at his chiseled upper body and give a quick prayer of thanks that breathing was an involuntary act.
“You are a very naughty girl.” He had gotten comfortable, playful. He had been worth the wait. “Not to mention you could catch your death of cold and I wish I was in my leather pants.”
“I thought we were taking clothes off, not putting them on.” Her voice took on a throaty tone. He began taking steps to close the distance between them.
When he reached her, he watched his own hand brush his knuckles along the side of her breast. She heard her own gasp, when his hand went under the apron to cup her full breast, his thumb toying with the now-tight little bud in the center. He gave her nipple a slight pinch and Zoey leaned back against the counter, her hands grabbing onto the sinewy arms when she felt the blood rush to her head.
“I hope this isn’t the only time we do this.” His lips were getting closer, already starting to pucker. “Every fantasy I had about you included taking your clothes off.”
He pressed his lips to hers while his free hand moved to her other breast. He cared. Had fantasized about her. All the needlessly wasted time to make up for. She wrapped her arms around his neck and opened her mouth to let her tongue brush along his bottom lip. It was all the encouragement he needed to plunder her mouth, and his tongue delved inside to steal what was left of her breath away. His hard sex pressed through his now-inconvenient pants and against her. She shifted to grind against him, starting to shake with need. His hand traveled lower beneath the apron, over her rib cage, and down her hip. His hand splayed across her stomach and then went lower. He started her wiggling when a thick nimble finger slipped inside her. She arched her back and tore her mouth from his to gasp for air when a second finger joined in the gentle massaging that set all her nerve endings to pulsate.
“Zoey, please tell me this isn’t some kind of joke.” He groaned as his lips grazed past her ear on into her neck and his fingers returned to her hip, freeing her from his exquisite torture. “Please tell me this isn’t my punishment for what I made you do tonight.”
She held his head in her hands, and they both stilled.
“I don’t want to punish you and I don’t want to tease you. I want to feel you. All of you. Inside me.”
Without another word, he took her hand and they raced down the hallway to his bedroom.
“I would carry you,” he said halfway to their final destination, “but I feel weak in the knees.”
“Then we’re even. In every fantasy I’ve had about you, you picked me up and whisked me away.”
“Next time,” he said, stopping short and pulling her to him then kissing her hard.
Upon reaching the bedroom, he released the clip that held her hair back, then pulled at the last remaining apron tie. Zoey rushed to unzipper his pants while they were still in motion to reach the bed. Tristan impatiently kicked off his remaining clothing and tumbled them both back onto the crisp, clean comforter. She longed to touch every part of him.
His lack of experience was easily made up for by his hunger. He took his time worshipping every inch of her. She could feel him smiling up against all her most sensitive spots as he kissed them, the back of her neck, along her rib cage, and behind her knees. She was soon engulfed in all-encompassing lust. Zoey wanted them to take their time, make the connection meaningful for both of them. But she was losing that battle, touch by skin-scorching touch. His kiss returned to her lips and she felt his hardness, inches away from her throbbing core.
“Condom,” she murmured into his neck as her fingernails raked lightly down his back.
“Right,” he growled while pushing himself off the bed. “Right, right right.”
“Please tell me you have one.” She sighed, missing his touch already.
“I don’t only have one,” he said while sprinting to the bathroom, his backside a glorious feast for her heavily lidded eyes. “I have a box of them.”
“Check the expiration date!” Zoey called after him.
“They’re good,” he replied, rushing to jump back on the bed. “I celebrate New Year’s with a fresh box.”
If Zoey had her way, he’d be needing a new box by the end of the week, not December.
Together they fumbled and giggled their way through putting the condom on. He shivered with her touch and he hissed through clenched teeth as she rolled the latex to his hilt and ended the exercise with a nip at his belly.