After We Fall (Take the Fall, #3)(38)

“Because I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since the first time I saw you.”

I make a face.

He caresses my cheek before wiping away my tears with the hem of his soft T-shirt. “Not what you’re thinking. I’ve helped countless women, but none of them ever got to me like you. Not a single damn time.”

“Until me?”

“Until you,” he agrees. “You managed to do what no one else ever has.”

“I find it really hard to believe you didn’t date before me,” I say, then want to smack my hand over my mouth. “Not that we’re dating. Yes, this is a date because of food and stuff, but I didn’t mean to imply…”

“Hush.”

“Did you just shush me?”

“It’s a date, angel. Like it or not, you invited me over for dinner and a movie. That’s a f*cking date and you know it.” He sounds grumpy, even a bit growly as he says this.

“And I’m in your lap.” I wriggle against him and he lifts an eyebrow.

“That you are.”

“And you’re doing absolutely nothing about it.” I swear his eyebrow goes into The Rock territory, but I can’t help going down this path. I waited to have sex until I was in love and look where that got me. Maybe I should try to have sex without love.

“What would you like for me to do, angel?” he says in that gravelly voice I love. No, not love…I like it. Only like it.

“See to my needs?”

He nods slowly, then leans over me and comes back with my plate. “Open.”

“You’re going to feed me?”

“I’m starving. You’re starving.”

My shoulders droop a little. “Oh.”

“And you’ll need this fuel to keep up with all I have planned for you tonight.” He smirks a little at me.

Grabbing a slice from him, I start to chow down on it, slinging white wine sauce on his cheek. “Ack! I’m so sorry.”

I go to wipe it off, but he grabs my wrist instead. “Use your tongue.”

Heat passes through me at first, then begins to travel down my spine as I lean in close. “Like this?” I sweep my tongue across his cheek, licking up the sauce as his five o’clock shadow tickles.

“Like that.” He turns his head, capturing my tongue with his mouth, and sucks it in. I forget all about the pizza, all about our conversation, and any resistance I’ve had until this point melts away.

I hear my plate crash to the floor. Hunter murmurs something about cleaning it up later, but I don’t care about the mess. I search for his mouth again and he gives it to me, cupping the back of my neck as he presses his lips to mine. He devours me as his other hand roams my body, finding one of my breasts and squeezing.

Moaning into his mouth, I arch into his hand even more. He responds with a low chuckle and lets go. Before I can protest, his hand is up my shirt, skimming my overheated skin until it comes in contact with my bra. His fingers curl, pulling at the lace cup until I hear it rip. Then he’s pushing me down on the sofa, his big body covering mine as our kisses go on and on.

I’m barely coherent as he strips away my clothes, as he kisses my fears away and ignites liquid fire in my veins. His mouth is searching, seeking, and finding the most sensitive parts of me. My neck, my tight nipples, and the inside of my thighs, but he doesn’t go to where I ache for him the most. Instead he teases me, turning me over and kissing the backs of my knees and licking a path to my bottom.

Nipping at me, he grabs my hips and pulls me up to him, whispering that he’s so hard for me, that he’s going to take care of me, and that I’ll want him in my bed, pleasuring me every night.

I can’t protest because it’s true. I do want him. I do trust him to take care of me, too. It’s almost like it’s a natural thing with us, something I’ve never experienced before. My first boyfriend was safe. My husband was dangerous. Hunter is a combination of strength and raw power.

Turning me over, he kisses the tips of my breasts, licking my nipples until my head won’t stop thrashing against the cushions. His chest touches mine and I gasp at the feeling of nothing between us.

I dig my fingers into his short hair, holding him close as he nibbles and sucks on my earlobes. There is no part of me he’s leaving untouched.

“I want to f*ck you,” Hunter says, leaning up while pressing his hips into mine. His erection slides through my curls, over and over, teasing my clit.

“Yes,” I say. “Here is fine.”

“Bedroom is better.” He takes his delicious weight away and I frown, reaching for him. He grabs me, sweeps me off my feet, and carries me the entire way to my bedroom.

Despite my early vow of sex only, I feel romantic notions take hold with each footstep. This is how things should be between a man and a woman. This loving, safe, mutually satisfying feeling is how it should be.

As he lays me down in the center of the bed, I wrap my arms around him and pull him down. He doesn’t pull away, doesn’t try to call the shots while we kiss, touch, and explore. His hands cover my breasts while his mouth blazes a path down to my core.

Spreading my thighs wide, I wait in breathless anticipation. His head dips and the first long, slow kiss of his tongue makes me moan. I can’t be quiet. I don’t want to be quiet.