After Hours (InterMix)(93)

I leaned in to drag my lips along his jaw. “Yeah, I do.”

“Maybe I’ll let you have that,” he muttered, still driving my hips. “Maybe I’ll just give you what you want. Nice big mouthful. That what you’d like?”

I drew my tongue along his jugular. “That’s exactly what I like, Kelly. Pleasing you.”

I didn’t know who the f*ck this woman was, speaking these words. Some me I’d never met. Some me who spoke the truth even as it undermined my self-image. Felt f*cking good, letting her steer. I felt loose and naked, utterly liberated with all that rigid self-possession cast aside. His hands told my body what to do and I surrendered to their orders, so much nicer than resisting.

His steady moans began to crescendo, sweaty palms slipping as his motions grew sloppy. “Fuck. I’m so close. On your knees.”

He nearly toppled me to the floor, but I caught myself. He was on his feet, fist in my hair, the other stripping the condom. “Open up.”

Two pumps and he was there, slick crown pushing past my lips, warm release basting my tongue.

“Yeah.” He said it again, and a third time, his grip on my hair loosening as his voice trailed to a low moan.

I licked his head clean and swallowed, working hard to suppress a supremely cocky grin. I admired his flushed, spent body as he sank back onto the couch with a delirious huff.

He curled a finger between us. “C’mere.”

I complied on sore hips, straddling his thighs. Stroking his sweat-damp hair, I smirked. “Whatever happened to you being Mr. Control, and me just keeping my pretty mouth shut?”

“Guess I like what comes out of your mouth, as much as I care about what might go in.”

I smacked his arm and he laughed.

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “I like the way you f*ck. You’re even more fun when I let you do stuff.”

“Well, well.”

“I like how you’re all . . . grabby. Physical. Like we’re scrapping, sometimes. But not always,” Kelly murmured, starting to kiss my neck. I cupped his head, welcoming the contact.

“Does it distract you, when we’re on the ward?” I asked. “Our messing around?”

“I’m extremely good at compartmentalizing my life.”

Figured. “Lucky you. I have work my ass off, trying not to think about sex every time we’re in the same room, in case I f*ck somebody’s meds up.”

A smug hmmm warmed my throat. “Do you now? What a terrible influence I am.”

Kelly urged me from his lap and onto my back on the cushions then got braced above, framing my ribs with his forearms, hands cupping my shoulders. He smiled, an easy, swoonifying grin I’d never seen before.

“What?”

“Nothing.” He dropped his mouth to mine, the kiss brief. When he pulled away his smile had gone, but his eyes were placid, nearly warm, like the ice had finally thawed. “You hungry? I lured you over here for dinner but we rushed straight to dessert.”

“Yeah, I’m hungry.”

“You’ve f*cked all the ambition out of me. Okay if we go out instead?”

“Sure.” Inwardly, I was embarrassed by how much the idea pleased me. It felt like a date, far more than being invited over for sex and hamburgers had. As dumb as it was, I wanted to be seen out someplace with Kelly. He might kiss me, with witnesses, and make it known that I was Kelly Robak’s woman. And shocking as it should have been, I wanted to let him. Even if the illusion only lasted a night.

We tidied ourselves and dressed, then climbed back into his truck. He drove us past Lola’s for a change, pulling up to the curb a couple blocks farther along the main drag, in front of a casual Italian place. Kelly held the door then led me past the bar to one of the booths against the back wall. I wanted wine, but I wasn’t sure if I was driving home or not, so when the waitress came by I stuck with a light beer.

I ran a quick analysis, trying to read too much into the booth. Was it for privacy? Or intimacy? So Kelly could keep me all to himself, tucked possessively in his orbit? I don’t know why I bothered trying to guess. Maybe he just hated somebody at the bar.

We perused the menus. The sex had made me so hungry, everything looked amazing. “What are you getting?”

“There’s a chicken parm special.”

“Ooh, that sounds good.” I looked up to find him smirking. “What?”

“We can’t order the same thing. That’s what old people do, and the sort of couples I can’t stand.”