Chapter Thirteen
LANDON’S HANDS THREAD THROUGH MY hair, pulling me closer. His mouth is so soft, yet his touch is hard, commanding. I’m in awe of him, and my mind is swimming with lust for him. His hands move to my hips and he lifts me onto the countertop. His body is between my thighs, and I close my legs around his back. I wish the counter were lower, so I could feel his cock press against me.
How do we always end up here? With our mouths and hands all over each other?
“Nora,” Landon says into my mouth. The way he says my name, so tenderly, makes me want to moan. I fight the urge, but my body is almost out of my mind’s control.
I wrap my arms around his neck, pulling him as close as possible.
“Don’t try to fight it,” he says, as if he knows that my mind is pushing hard against him.
I nod and pull my mouth away from his. I move my lips to his ear. “I want you to fuck me, Landon.” I drag my lips slowly across his cheek, down to his jaw.
He trembles under my touch, and I pull at the bottom of his shirt and lift it over his head. His body makes me ache. The muscles on his abdomen aren’t too overworked; the lines are faint and soft, but strong. The trail of hair on this stomach is just another part of his body that I want to have my mouth on. My hands look so small as my fingers find the buttons of his jeans, and I pop them open quickly.
He’s wearing black briefs that fit snugly. Why does he have to be so hot? Why does he have to make me forget my judgment and rip his clothes off? I’ve read my fair share of romance novels, and I’ve always rolled my eyes at the way a man’s body supposedly has the magic ability to turn a woman’s brain to mush. But here I am, with my very own shirtless man—in a kitchen, of all places—and I can’t form a single coherent thought.
My thoughts are plenty, but none of them pure.
My mouth moves lower, to suck on the smooth curve of muscle just where his shoulder meets his neck. He moans and I suck harder, not caring if I leave a mark. If I mark him, does that make him mine? If Dakota saw proof of my lips on him, would she do everything in her power to destroy me?
Probably.
Do I care?
Not right now.
My hands find their way down his chest to the line of his briefs. The elastic is tight, but I push my hand through and grip him. He’s hard for me, so hard for me.
Landon lets out a heavy breath and drops his head to my shoulder. His hair smells like pine and soap, a stimulating mix. I rest my free hand on the back of his head and hold him to me as I stroke him with the other. I move my hand slowly, pumping him.
He feels so heavy in my hand, and all I can think about is that I want to watch his face change as he grows closer to his orgasm. I love the way he closes his eyes when he comes. I’ve thought—many, many times—about how he came in his boxers as I straddled him.
“This is better than imagining, isn’t it?” I ask.
I barely recognize my own voice.
Landon lifts his head slightly, and his hands move to my hips. I feel his fingers tug on my shirt, and I lift my body so he can take my shirt off. The second it hits the floor, his mouth is less than an inch from my chest. His eyes are wide on mine, asking for permission.
I nod and reach behind my back to unclasp my bra. My bra falls away, and Landon’s eyes blink in anticipation. He makes me feel so wanted. He makes me forget the years of insults in my past and those I inflict on myself in the present.