Do You Take This Man (54)

I let out a sigh. “But, no. I don’t. I’ve never seen the point. Do you?”

He shook his head. “Not so much anymore.”

“You still don’t want to talk about what you said to her?”

He shook his head again, in a slow nudge of his chin against my temple. The air conditioner in the room kicked on, filling the silence with a low hum. I’d heard a lot of his story when he’d talked to the jilted bride, heard in his voice how someone had broken him. I didn’t want to ask him to share that. I wasn’t sure I was someone who even could respond the right way. “I should go,” I said, not moving from under his touch. “It’s late.”

“You could stay.” He slid his hand up my ribs, the tip of his thumb grazing the side of my breast, but kept going to my shoulder. “Give me a chance for extra credit.”

“We never spend the night.”

He stroked my shoulder. “We don’t.”

“But . . .” I held my breath as his fingers moved up my neck and across my nape, not wanting to move away from his touch. “It’s a hotel room, so not home.”

Lear’s lips dipped to my neck, nose brushing my skin. “It is.”

“And it’s technically morning already, so it’s not spending the night . . .”

Lear’s palm slid lower down my belly. “And we’re not going to sleep.”

“You should sleep.” My breath stuttered when he rolled, the length of his body pressed to mine. “You’re tired.”

Lear’s fingers inched down the crease where my thigh met my hip, and he spoke against my jaw. “Do I feel tired?”

When his hand ghosted over my clit, the sensation of barely being touched rocked me, and he chuckled against my chin.

“Stay.” His fingertips dipped lower, circling my tight bundle of nerves, and I groaned.

“Okay,” I said with a sharp inhale, letting my thighs fall apart. “Only so you can earn your A.”

Lear pulled his head back enough to look into my eyes, his grin making a dimple pop. “That’s generous.”

“I’m nicer than you assume.”

His mouth was on mine, pulling my lower lip between his before he began to kiss a trail down my body. “No, you’re not, but I like you mean.” He kissed my belly and then met my eyes with a raised eyebrow. “Can you let me do this now?”

The pillow cradled my head as my eyes fell closed at the feel of his mouth. My entire life, I’d always told men exactly what I wanted. It wasn’t a hardship—if I thought about it, I didn’t trust them to get it right, so I gave lots of direction, every time. I groaned when he spread my thighs wider, his tongue moving in perfect wide circles.

I clutched the pillow above my head and my breathing sped. At some point, I’d stopped giving Lear direction, stopped getting distracted with worry that he wouldn’t get it right. I didn’t want him to know he knew me so well, didn’t want to admit he could anticipate my responses, but he did.

He shifted, increased his pressure, and I squirmed, but his hand was there, already resting at my waist to hold me in place.

“More,” I huffed, meeting his eyes.

“I know.” He spoke over my skin, the words muffled. His fingers filled me, his pinky finger tracing against the spot that made me groan at the sensation.

My thighs shook and my muscles tensed. Lear’s hair was soft under my fingers as I slid my hand over his head, gripping his hair, and the coils in my body tightened. I whimpered toward the ceiling, too gone to be bothered that Lear Campbell was making me whimper and it was normal. My body always reacted to him this way.

He held my thigh and gripped my waist, tightening the circles of his tongue a moment before I knew I wanted him to focus right there.

“Yes, yes!”

He pressed his fingers deeper, crooking to nudge my G-spot in a slow, steady rhythm, filling me, taking me closer to the edge, where my body and mind were ready. I paused on the precipice, the tension building so slowly that I teetered on the edge. He didn’t stop. He kept going in that maddening slow rhythm until the first string was pulled and my body unraveled in a flurry of sensations and heat, my hips rolling under him.

I was still moaning when Lear moved up the bed and stroked my neck. “Minus?”

I needed more contact, needed more touch, as the edges of the orgasm rippled through me. I pulled Lear to me, slanting my lips over his and tasting myself on his mouth. “Plus. Definitely plus.”

He kissed me again, his arousal evident against my leg. “Always good to have the highest grade in the room.”

I stilled. “Wait. Are you saying I’ve earned only an A minus?”

Lear dragged his lips across my shoulder. “Let the minus motivate you.”

I rolled to the side, pinning him to the bed with my leg over his and my forearms on his chest. “You think I’m so competitive that will work on me? That just because we’re friends, I’ll let you sucker me like that?”

“So, you do want to be my friend.” His grin was cocky, but the real smile underneath showed through.

“Shut up.” I kept him pinned, dropping a kiss to his lips.

“And I didn’t try to sucker you. I just said I have an A plus.”

I hated that he knew me so well.