Survivor (First to Fight #2)(43)

Then I catch a glimpse of my clock and notice I slept so deeply with him beside me that I slept through my alarm. I jump out of bed and immediately stub my toe on the dresser before I make it to the bathroom to brush my teeth.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I say, whimpering from the throbbing in my toe. I rush through my morning routine, brushing my hair, swiping on makeup, and dragging on a basic black dress to cover my hurried preparations. I’ve got another meeting with HR and the last thing I want to do is be late.

He watches me from the bed, the sheet pulled up to his waist and his chest bare which helps to distract me from the pain. “Still graceful as all hell, Sof.”

“Shut up,” I tell him, hoping my makeup covers the blush spreading across my cheeks. “The dresser was just in the wrong place.”

“Wrong place,” he says with a grin on his lips.

“Need coffee,” is the only response I can come up with by way of an explanation.

“C’mere first.”

I turn to face him. “What?”

“Just c’mere.”

I walk across the bedroom, trying to gauge his mood after the emotional rollercoaster of the past few days. When I get close enough, he surges up, sifting one hand through my hair and causing it to fall in a curtain around us as he yanks me down. My fingers twitch against his skin and when he turns, rolling me onto my back, I laugh into his mouth as he presses a kiss to my lips that feels as natural to me as breathing.





Present



THE FIRST TASTE of her is intoxicating. Better than even my most explicit fantasies. Even more sexy than her sweet lips pressed to mine, is the laughter bubbling in her chest. She keeps her hands between us, pressed against my chest—the last vestige of her resistance—but I don’t let it deter me from sampling her mouth.

“You had your hands on me this morning,” I say against her lips. “I don’t think just friends touch me the way you did.”

She starts to pull away, a flush already spreading across her cheeks. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that.”

I keep my arm around her waist, not enough to scare her off, just enough so she knows I’ll resist if she tries to back away. When she stops struggling and looks into my eyes, I say, “I didn’t say I wanted you to stop.”

Her bottom lip drops and I can’t resist the growl rumbling in my chest. Still caught in the haze of half-sleep, between dreams and reality, past and present, I capture her lower lip and nibble, laving it with my tongue. She moans into my mouth, her fingers now clutching at my shoulders.

“Jack, I have to get to work.”

I kiss a path down her throat. “You will.” Eventually.

“As in on time.”

“Now that, I don’t know if I can do,” I say as I bite the swell of her breast exposed by her dress. Her retort gets stuck somewhere in her throat and I take advantage of her silence by peeling down the top portion of her dress until her breasts are bared to my attention.

Her hands go to my head as my lips make the achingly slow journey to her hardened nipple. I suck it into my mouth and her fingers dive into my hair to hold me against her. I flick my tongue in a wicked pattern until she writhes against me.

“I don’t…I can’t…”

“Shh. Yes. Yes, you can.” Suddenly, I want it more than anything. I want to feel her come undone under my hands. Want to see the sweet release come in waves across her face. I need to take her there. Erase his memory. Make her mine again.

Mine.

I’ll be sure enough for the both of us. I slip my hands under her exposed breasts and lift them up so I can give them the attention I remember she loved so much. I take one in each hand, my thumb and finger tweaking them ever so slightly that each subtle movement sends shocks throughout her body.

When she’s moaning, mindless, I flip her under me, her dress bunched up around her hips. My head moves from her breasts and down her stomach to kiss her belly button. My tongue slips in for a moment and she gasps. Then I nuzzle the line of her panties with my nose.

I look up at her flushed face before I make the next move. She glances down between us and wedges her fingers under the waistband of her panties until she can shimmy out of them. I tear my gaze away from her eyes, wanting to watch her face and look my fill, and not knowing which I want more.

“This okay?” I ask, gauging her reaction as I fit my shoulders between her legs.

She spreads them in increments, thighs trembling, but I don’t rush her, the anticipation all the more monumental because of her trust. To show my gratitude, I kiss the inside of her thigh causing her to throw her head back. I kiss the other and make the slow journey down each until I reach her *.

I pull my hands away from her breasts and look up at her face long enough to guide her hands where mine just were. The sight of her touching her breasts wrings a groan from my chest, the vibration against her sensitive skin causes her legs to press against my shoulders in response.

“I’ve imagined you like this for the past ten years,” I say gruffly. “You’re definitely gonna be late for work.” Then I flick my tongue over her and she cries out, needy. Wanting. “Don’t worry, baby, I’ll make it worth it.”

“No, Jack, I mean it. I don’t know if I can.” She clutches handfuls of my hair and I shiver just looking up at her dazed face.