Saugatuck Summer (Saugatuck, #1)(14)

Well, then. Happy birthday to me and wasn’t that just some delightful gift wrapping?

His lips were so red against his light skin that you’d think he was wearing lipstick, except that they’d been every bit as red this afternoon on the beach, and his black hair didn’t appear to be styled at all. It just fell loose to his collar in gentle curls, looking ridiculously touchable.

And was I going to have my fingers buried in that hair before the end of the night? If I had any say in it, you’re goddamn right I was.

His hands settled on my hips the moment I got close enough, as if they belonged there, and his lips brushed mine in an undemanding kiss of greeting that nonetheless established a claim. As did the way his hand lingered just above my ass as he escorted me to the bar. Proprietary. He was letting anyone who might be checking me out tonight know that my companion for the evening was already chosen. It was a little presumptuous, and I wondered if I should be troubled by it. I mean, sure, I was into him, and fully planning to hit that if things worked out, but should I play it coy or something?

“What’ll you have to drink, birthday boy?” he murmured near my ear, giving me a shiver.

“Just a beer.”

He quirked an eyebrow at that. I think he’d expected me to order something really sweet and fruity (no pun intended). Which, really, I had no objection to, except that I didn’t plan to end this evening puking drunk because whatever I was drinking tasted so good and went down so easy that I didn’t know when to cut myself off.

His fingers played at the base of my spine as he turned to order our beers from the bartender. I’d been hard before I even walked in, just from the anticipation, but that touch was amping it up. I wondered how long he’d want to hang out with his friends and dance before we went back to his room. He scanned the crowd as he handed me a nicely chilled bottle with a lemon wedge on the rim.

“Not sure where my friends went. Probably out to the Jacuzzi. Want to have a seat or would you rather dance?”

“Let’s at least find someplace to put our drinks down first.” I really wanted to have both hands on him when we danced.

“Okay.” His eyes had that wicked gleam again as he slid a sideways look at me, like he knew exactly what I was thinking. Expectation pulsed between us in near-palpable waves, each one making me a little more impatient. I could have suggested we go back to his room right away, but I didn’t. Crazy as it was making me, there was also something delicious about it. About not acting as though it was a sure thing, making him court me a little.

I began to understand why a cat would play with a mouse for a while before eating it. Except that neither of us was exactly the cat, or exactly the mouse. Or if we were, we were mice that had run straight up to the cat and asked for a game of tag.

His hand riding the small of my back was even more sure of his claim now, and there was just a little edge to him that said if I wanted to bottom, he would take charge and rock my world in ways it had never been rocked and might never be again. But there was also something relaxed about him that said he’d be just as happy to let me pin him to the wall or throw him across a table and f*ck him stupid.

The chips were in the air and I had no f*cking clue where they would land. The anticipation of finding out was one amazing ride.

Then his breath was on my ear as we found a table for our beers. “You look good enough to eat.”

I let my gold-sheened lips curl into a smile. “Well, that was sort of the idea. I’m glad you like it, though.”

“There’s nothing here not to like.” His hand dropped from my back to my hips, his fingers brushing over the swell of my ass. I shivered.

“Not everyone would think so. I wasn’t one hundred percent certain you’d be down with the makeup.”

“Oh?” He lifted an eyebrow, propping a hip against the table to sip his beer. “Why wear it, then?”

I stepped closer, enough so that if he’d parted his knees a little bit, I could have pressed right up flush against him. I brushed my lips along his jaw, somewhere between a kiss and a nuzzle, not quite either.

“Because I didn’t wear it for you.”

I could swear I heard a soft groan escape his throat under the bass of the music, and then his knees did inch apart a bit more, his hands settling more firmly on my hips again to draw me closer until we were eye to eye and crotch to crotch. We gasped in unison at the friction of that first electric contact.

“And that is why you’re so f*cking hot,” he rasped. Our mouths were a breath apart and he could have kissed me, or I could have kissed him. But we didn’t. We just breathed together, savoring that madly intense moment of perfect wanting. After a moment he stepped back and led me to the dance floor.

I’d never felt this before, this effortless comfort and flawless understanding. In my previous experiences—which hadn’t been terribly numerous, but enough so that I knew my way around the game fairly well by now—even when the hookup was good, there was usually some element of fumbling and uncertainty, questioning whether the other person wanted what I wanted, or liked what I was doing, or whatever. Not here, though. I had a weird flash of thought—this is how adults do it—and then it was gone.

Bottom line was, we just clicked and we knew it. No questions. No doubts. No pressure. No self-consciousness to mar the excitement. I was relaxed (well, except for where there was some blatant tension going on) and sure of myself in a way I almost never was. I knew I looked good. I knew I was hot. I knew he wanted me. I knew that when he did touch me, he’d know exactly how to do it in the ways that felt the best, and I’d know the same.