I moan through the kiss, the tips of our tongues causing sparkling sensation to writhe up and down my body.
“I’m so, so happy you came,” Aaron whispers, breaking off the kiss and keeping his face close, his breath caressing me just like in my dreams.
“So am I,” I whisper.
But then it all becomes too much.
No, no, no.
I can’t, not here.
The emotions rise up inside of me, into my throat, choking me.
And then I start to cry.
CHAPTER TEN
Aaron
I wrap my arms around her when she begins to cry, smoothing my hands down her back.
“I’m sorry,” she whimpers. “I’m so overwhelmed. These are happy tears. I promise. I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long.”
I lean back slightly, emotion tugging at me when I see the tears streaming down her round cheeks. “You have?”
She bites down. “I shouldn’t have said that. I’m sorry.”
I smooth my thumbs across her cheeks, her words ringing through me.
She’s dreamed of this…
Does that mean this is more than a casual date? But I have to be careful. I’d never forgive myself if I scared her away.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I tell her passionately, hoping she can’t sense the rumbling in my voice, the deeply buried tone that will tell her I feel exactly the same way she does. “Except for not letting me get a proper look at you in that dress. Goddamn, Billie.”
I take a step back, smirking, more emotion swelling in me when she lets out a cute-as-hell giggle. Her outfit is perfect, with just the right amount of cleavage, enough to get my hunger stirring but without giving too much away. Her bare legs make my manhood throb, even if the dress isn’t insanely short. She’s straightened her hair, but it’s wild and untamable, some endearing strands having already started to become wavy again.
“Give me a spin,” I say, still smirking.
She laughs, no longer crying, and I consider my mission accomplished. Finally, she stops, a frown touching her lips.
“I’m sorry for blurting that out. But I guess there’s no harm in you knowing. I’ve sort of had a crush on you for a long time.”
My tip pluses and slick precome writhes up my shaft, making me bite down and clench my fists. She has no idea how vulnerable and sexy she looks right now, as she bites her lip and looks at me from under her eyelashes.
“You don’t have to be ashamed of that,” I tell her. “I’ve had a crush on you for a couple of weeks now.”
She giggles and walks toward me, stops as though considering, and then stands on her tiptoes and places her hands on my shoulders. “Is this okay?”
I feel her fingertips press through my suit jacket, the eagerness buried in her touch, as she tightens her grip.
“More than okay,” I growl, pulling her in for another kiss.
The taste of her mouth is addictive, the feel of her tongue as it nervously glides against mine. I savor the way her body shivers as if she can’t help it, as if there’s a force inside of her as demanding and hungry as the one inside me.
She breaks the kiss off, her eyes widening. “Maybe we should sit down?”
There’s a glimmer of something else in her eyes, not lust and not need. For a second I wonder if she doesn’t want to be here. But then I look deeper into the innocence of my woman’s expression, the youth of her blooming red cheeks, the way she can’t stop biting down on her lip and fidgeting.
She doesn’t want me to push her too fast.
I nod and, with an effort, I take a step back and wave a hand. “After you, my lady.”
“Who knew rock stars could be so polite?”
I grin widely. “Nah, it’s not that. I just want a look at that dress from behind. Be a good girl and move those hips for me, Billie.”
“Like this?” she whispers, as she walks down the hallway, swaying her hips from side to side.
I let out a shivering breath as my gaze locks onto her ass, the fabric of the dress swishing around the gorgeous fleshy bulbs. I can make out the shape of her ass, begging me to luxuriate in her curvaceousness, to sink my hands into her ample flesh, to lose myself in exploring every tantalizing inch of her.
I walk up next to her and lead her across the living room, toward the balcony.
I pause when she stops. She’s gazing around my living room.
“Not what you expected?” I joke as I follow the path of her gaze.
My living room is bare of all decoration, neat and clean, but with no personal touches.
“This place needs a woman’s touch,” she mutters under her breath, and then she bites down again, as though she wants to snatch the words back.
But she’s right. Not any woman, though. My woman could transform this apartment into a welcoming home, could make it so I’m excited to return here… but then again, that would have less to do with the decoration and more to do with the curvy young woman waiting for me at home.