“That wasn’t fair,” she whispers. “I asked what you wanted. You, not me.”
What is she talking about?
“I don’t…” I have to clear my voice and try again. “I don’t understand.”
Because I really don’t.
When I worked the sidewalk, the women who went with me had specific ideas in mind of what they desired—fantasies their husbands couldn’t give them. Mostly it was me, fucking them hard against the wall, in the kitchen, on the sofa. They paid me to play out a role and make them come, and I did.
Afterward, the chicks I’ve been with also knew what they needed. They told me how to get them off—hands or cock—and the shortest way to get me off, too. We never kissed. Never held hands. Never hugged or touched otherwise. They thought that’s how all guys think, that they’d win points with me for not wasting time, racing toward pleasure.
They didn’t win any points. They never thought to ask. They never…
“You always ask what I want,” she whispers, her lashes casting impossibly long shadows on her cheeks, her wild hair framing her face. So goddamn beautiful. “What about what you want?”
I could still make fun of it, laugh it off, ignore the strange twinge in my chest at her desire to please me. Tell her I want to bury myself balls-deep inside her and fuck her until I come. I could tell her she’s stupid for asking.
But that’s not what comes out of my mouth.
“I wanna kiss you,” I breathe. “And hold you.”
The fuck?
Her eyes widen, and we stare at each other, bo
th shocked at my words. I’m sure she’s about to laugh, or sneer, or ask me if I’m serious—am I?
Instead, she bends over, brushes her lips over mine—and I’m gone.
Chapter Fifteen
Amber
He tastes faintly of my mint toothpaste and something dark and spicy, like chili chocolate. Delicious, so much better than I remember, and then his arm slips around my waist, crushing me to him. I collapse half on top of him and he tucks me by his side and keeps kissing me, his tongue tangling with mine, setting me on fire. His large, strong hand strokes down my back and cups my ass, possessive and firm but steady, keeping me in place as he devours my mouth like it’s his favorite sweet.
We kiss and kiss. My hand rests on his hard chest, and I’m dying to explore his muscled body, starting from the pierced nipples to the impressive erection that’s trying to push out of his briefs, but I stop myself and let him do what he pleases.
He hums in my mouth, one hand locked on my backside, the other coming up to cup my face, his thumb stroking my cheekbone. It’s tender, and hot, and not at all what I expected when I asked him what he wanted.
Truth is, I expected him to demand something racy, something dirty and raw. No idea what I’d have done if that was what he asked for.
I’d have gone down on him if he’d said so. I never tried doing it before, but the thought of giving him pleasure is heady. Makes me ache with need—the need to feel him, feel his lips and hands on me, feel him inside of me.
But what he asked is so sweet my heart is melting.
Oh God… I pull back, breaking the kiss, my breath coming in shallow pants. Wow. Kissing him is so hot.
“I could kiss you forever,” he whispers, his lips so close to mine I feel the words forming. I turn my head and the rough stubble on his jaw scrapes on my cheek. “I could hold you forever.”
“Didn’t think you’d like this,” I say, my heart pounding.
He blinks at me, absurdly long, dark lashes shielding his eyes. He looks boyish like that, and adorably confused. “Never done this with anyone else,” he whispers. “Never kissed anyone. Only you.”
I turn back to look at him and catch that flash of vulnerability in his gaze.
Okay, scratch melting. I want to hug him so hard right now he may never recover. If I’m not careful, I’ll break his bones and he’ll break my heart, scatter the pieces to the winds and go back to his manwhore ways before I realize what has happened.
I shift on one elbow and trail my hand on his stomach, trace the bumps of his perfect abs upward, toward his pecs. “What about kissing you here?”