My So-Called Sex Life (How to Date, #1)(45)

He grunts. It’s primal, and heat flares in my cells. Then, he cages me against the door, pressing his hard-on against me and answering my move with a dominant one of his own. Like he knows that’s how I want it.

And I do. I want to be dominated. I want to be pushed around. I want to be a little manhandled.

He lets go of my face to grab my wrists, lift them over my head, pin them.

Book kiss, here I come. I am no longer jealous of my heroines. I am my heroines, but even those lucky leading ladies have nothing on me now.

I’m having what I gave them in all those stories. A kiss that makes me hot, wet, hungry.

As he sweeps his mouth over mine, he moans again, rough and carnal. The sounds of his desire thrum under my skin, between my thighs.

Have me, my body begs.

It’s strange to feel this way with him. It’s so unexpected that I’m still shocked it’s happening, even though it’s also the very thing I’ve craved wantonly since the first night in Rome.

When I roll my hips against him, he drops my wrists so he can slide a hand down my chest. He’s not tentative. He’s deliberate as he palms my right breast, then squeezes my nipple.

I gasp. The sound turns into a long “ohhh.”

He breaks the kiss, stares down at me. His lips are red, swollen. His eyes are blue flames. “Better,” he rasps, as if he can barely form sentences.

“What is?” I ask, breathy from being kissed senseless.

“Kissing you is better than I imagined,” he says.

My skin glows. My whole body tingles. He’s talking my language. I want to be wanted. I want to be craved. I want to be talked to in bed.

“Have you thought about me a lot?” I ask, still a little shocked, a little awed from his earlier confession.

He rubs the back of his knuckles over my cheek. “More than I want to admit.” But he does just that—admits.

I feel…electric everywhere.

Shivery and tingly.

“You’re a really good kisser.” I’m not trying to be smooth or seductive. Axel simply is, and I want him to know.

“I just really like kissing you,” he tells me, like he’s stripping himself bare, laying all his confessions at my feet. “So I think I’ll do it again,” he says, finishing in that cocky tone that’s irked me so many times before.

Right now? That tone makes me wetter.

This time when his lips come down on mine, he’s not as rough. He’s almost gentle, a little reverent.

But he’s also very, very busy.

Unbuttoning my blouse.

Kissing as he goes.

Another kiss on the corner of my mouth. Another button undone. His lips coast along my jawline. His fingers trail down my chest, over the curves of my breasts.

I’m breathless with longing as he kisses and undresses me. My shirt falls open, and he pushes it off one shoulder then sweeps his mouth along my collarbone. “Can’t get enough,” he says.

Same here. I grip his arms, running my hands along his skin, so damn eager to explore him.

As I go, I’m amazed that we’re doing this. That we’re hurtling into bed. It feels so unreal.

“Is this really happening?” I whisper. If I talk any louder, I’ll break the spell of the train, the rattle of the wheels, the soundtrack to this rampant lust that’s driving us on.

“Yeah, baby. You want it to?” Axel asks, and there’s zero cockiness now. He sounds…vulnerable. I hardly ever hear that emotion from him. It hooks onto my heart.

“I do,” I gasp. “I really do. I think I need to say it because it’s just so…unexpected.”

“Say you want me,” he commands.

Easiest words ever. “I want you.”

“Good.” He rains more kisses onto my shoulder, then pulls back to look at me again. “Want to kiss you across every inch of your body. Your neck.” He swipes his thumb down my throat to demonstrate. “Your tits.” His fingers travel down my chest. “Here, right here.” He journeys over my belly, then visits the top of my skirt. “Your thighs. The back of your knee. The top of your ass.”

I try to breathe. I try to stay upright. But I’m boneless. I’m on fire. “Do it. All of it,” I say.

One possessive hand curls over my ass. He squeezes, then moves his hand to my thigh. “Want to taste you everywhere. Want to kiss you everywhere. Want to fuck you just the way you want to be fucked.”

I was already sold, but that—ending his soliloquy with an ode to my pleasure—has me gushing. “Now. Please. Now.”

He growls, the sound an appreciative rumble. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear that.”

He’s right. I have no idea. But as I gaze at his wet, parted lips, then his darkened irises, I’m getting the message loud and clear. “Actually, I think I do,” I whisper.

“Let’s make sure though. I’ll show you.” With a wicked grin, he drops down to his knees, pushes up my skirt, tugs at my panties, then slides them down my thighs.

I step out of them, trembling.

Axel looks up at me, licking his lips. “You are too sexy for my own good.”

I don’t even know what to say. I’ve never felt too sexy for anyone’s good. I’ve always felt like I’m having better sex in my head. Like I’m writing sex, rather than experiencing it.