Well Played (Well Met #2)(63)

“Let me look at you. Please.”

I drew a nervous breath, exceedingly conscious that he was not seeing me at the best angle. I looked better lying flat, not in this half-reclining state. But I couldn’t say no to him. I couldn’t deny the shine in his eyes, the wonder in his gaze as his fingertips glided up my thighs, encouraging them to part for him. Oh, God, he was going to touch me. Finally. And it was going to devastate me. My eyes fell closed and my breath shuddered out of me as his fingers started exploring, fondling, stroking.

“Holy shit.” His voice was weak, little more than a whisper. I forced my eyes open to see him watching my face. “You’re the most beautiful . . .” He slid a finger inside me, then two, in then out slowly, every move deliberate yet gentle. Taking his time. Savoring. Meanwhile, I wasn’t sure I’d survive the night. My hips heaved up to meet his touch and my breasts felt swollen, heavy. I wanted to feel his touch everywhere. I cupped them in my hands, my nipples hard against my palms, not as good as his hands on me but the best I could get for now, and Daniel groaned.

“God, yeah. Keep doing that. Touch yourself for me.” His thumb slid up, hooking over that most sensitive part of me, almost sending me over the edge, and I bit my lip hard to keep from crying out. All joking aside, screaming in ecstasy in what was technically still my parents’ house wasn’t something I wanted to do. But Daniel was making it extremely difficult. He slid an arm around my back again, pulling me to sit up, to perch on the edge of the couch, while he knelt up against me, his hand still busy between my legs, his mouth on the side of my neck.

“You’re so wet.” His voice was a low growl in my ear, and his words sent a thrill through me, making me clench around his fingers. “And tight . . . Is this how you’re going to feel? God, I want you so bad, but I can’t stop.”

“Don’t stop,” I gasped. “Don’t you dare stop.” I wound my arms around his shoulders, holding on, trusting him, while I rode his hand shamelessly. It was too much. All of my senses were full of him, but it wasn’t enough. I wanted more. I needed him. I reached down, pushing at his unfastened pants that hung low around his hips, but he shook his head.

“Not yet. This is for you. All for you.” His teeth sank gently into my earlobe, tugging, then his tongue soothed the bite. “I’ve imagined how you’d look, how you’d feel . . . let me see this. Let me see you. Let me feel you. Please.”

The combination of his words, his voice, his touch, it was too much. Too much to take, and soon I was clutching his shoulders, fingernails digging in, as I gasped and my body shook in his arms. His mouth covered mine, taking my cries into himself, swallowing them. It took somewhere between a few moments and forever for me to come back to myself, and I sagged against him, my head dropping to his shoulder.

“Now?” I asked. My voice was a plaintive whine, but I was too satisfied to care. “Now will you take your pants off?”

His laugh was an explosion of breath in my ear. “Oh, gladly.”

I expected him to stand up, or to push me back down onto the couch again. Instead he moved backward, sitting, then lying flat on the area rug beneath him, pulling me with him. I spilled down beside him in a tangle of limbs.

“Are you kidding me?” I pushed up on my elbows and watched lasciviously as he stood and finally, finally, finished the job I’d started on his pants roughly a million years ago. My breath escaped my body in a long whoosh as his pants hit the floor, and it was all I could do to keep teasing him. “You really have something against my bed, don’t you?”

“What?” He tossed his wallet down near my head before kneeling down next to me again. “This rug is great. I’ve always wanted to make love on a pink fake fur rug with sparkles on it.”

“Hey, I love this rug. I take a lot of Instagram photos on this rug.” Though maybe not anytime in the near future, after what was apparently about to happen on this rug. I’d probably need to clean it first.

“Anyway, your bed is ridiculous, and I’m just fine here.” He crawled up my body, caging me in his arms to claim a kiss. So much heat. So much bare skin, soft and hard and hot against mine. “As long as I’m with you, I’m fine anywhere.” His arms tightened around me and he rolled us, stretching his long, long legs under me and pulling me firmly on top of him. “Come here,” he said. “I’ll be your bed.”

“Mmm. Best bed ever.” How could one person’s skin feel so right against mine? I wound my legs around his and relished the feel of his body under mine. He was long, lean, and hard where I was short and soft, but somehow we fit. Everything about him fit everything about me.

Well, almost everything. There was one thing we hadn’t tried the fit of yet. And I couldn’t wait any longer. I reached down between us, taking him back into my hand again, and the breath rushed out of his lungs. He was harder, hotter than he’d been before, throbbing in my hand as I stroked him, and I stole a glance up toward the bathroom, and the box of condoms that I knew was in my medicine cabinet. So far away. I hadn’t trained Benedick how to bring me things, and that was super inconvenient right now. Where was a Harry Potter spell when you needed it? Accio prophylactic!

“Wait.” He reached above his head for his wallet, fumbling with it. “Here, wait. I’ve got . . .” A ridiculous number of business cards spilled to the floor before he finally produced a condom and pressed it into my hand.