I drop the bags to my feet and close the distance between us, pulling her in for a kiss that’s all the deeper for the interrupted one in the cockpit. She curves into me, her soft sigh telling me she’s as keen as I am.
‘You ready to see my bedroom?’
She lifts her lashes, her cheeks colouring. ‘It feels kind of weird. I’ve never stayed under the same roof as my... Well, you know... A boyfriend’s parent.’
She blushes further as she puts a label to me—hell, my whole insides are blushing over it, loving it and wanting more.
‘I promise you, this house is big enough that he won’t hear a peep—unless, of course, I make you scream.’
She bites into her lip as she eyes me. ‘Now, there’s a thought.’
Heat surges south and I turn away to grab the bags before I drop her to the parquet and say to hell with any potential audience.
‘This way...’
She starts after me and then stops. ‘Wait—my shoes...’
‘Keep them on. This place can get chilly. If it makes you feel better, you can leave them outside the bedroom; it’ll save me the job of taking them off you when we get there.’
She laughs. ‘Thank you, Ash.’
I frown at her. ‘For what?’
‘For bringing me here. It truly is perfect.’
Her voice is so soft, her eyes are the same, and there’s so much emotion clouding her gaze. I curse the fact that my hands are full of baggage instead of her.
‘You’re welcome.’
She does take her shoes off outside the door, and I do the same, gesturing for her to go in.
She turns the knob on the door and pushes it open.
‘The light pull is just to your left.’
She pulls on it and her face lights up with the glow from a central chandelier. ‘Wow!’
‘You like it?’
‘What’s not to like?’
She pads in, tracing her fingers over the antique furnishings, the window seat with its full-height drapes and then the four-poster bed.
She curls her fingers around a bottom post and smiles at me, all coy. ‘This could be fun.’
The heat pulses in my groin.
Fuck.
I release the bags and kick the door closed. She straightens as I stride towards her, her smile growing, and then my arms are around her and I keep moving, walking her to the bed, onto her back, my mouth on hers, hard, urgent. My saving grace is that she’s right with me, her mouth just as hungry, her hands just as fierce.
There are too many layers—our coats, our sweaters—but they’re coming off. Our hands are ripping them away from each other. Our jeans are next, and our underwear, and then she shivers.
‘Are you cold?’ I manage to ask.
‘No.’ She shakes her head, her mouth finding mine and kissing away any doubt. ‘I want you.’
She wraps her legs around me. I feel my cock probing at her hot, slick warmth and I pull back, pinning my hands on either side of her head as I stare down into pools of green, dilated with desire.