She knew that it was Arlo.
He was the answer. She wanted him.
Her insides tightened, the truth accelerating her racing pulse. But everything was tangled, snarled together so tightly that she was incapable of doing anything other than stand there and stare at him.
‘I d
on’t know,’ she said at last.
He took a step closer. ‘Would it help if I told you what I wanted?’
Her eyes found his. He was watching her intently, his face taut, the muscles in his arms bunching beneath his shirt.
‘What do you want?’ she whispered, clenching and unclenching her fists.
Reaching out, he ran his finger along her jaw. ‘I want you. And you want me.’
The rawness in his voice shocked her so much that she didn’t even attempt to deny his words. His dark eyes were trained on her face and the tension inside her was at breaking point.
She knew that he was waiting for her, that he would walk away without a murmur if she wanted him too. But she didn’t want him to. Only she couldn’t seem to speak.
She took a breath and said the only word that would form in her mouth. ‘Yes.’
He leaned into her, dipping his head so that his lips brushed against hers, and then his hands were pulling her closer, so that it felt as if they were starting where they’d left off last time.
Heart pounding, she slid her fingers over the solid muscles of his chest, almost dizzy with the freedom of touching him. His hands slid under her jumper to cup her breasts, and she moaned against his lips as the nipples hardened.
‘Open your mouth,’ he said hoarsely, and she responded, tightening her fingers around his arms as he deepened the kiss.
Only she wanted more and, pushing him back, she grabbed her sweater and pulled it over her head. His eyes narrowed as she began undoing his shirt, and then, with a growl of frustration, he yanked it apart, the buttons flying everywhere.
She swallowed hard as he dragged the sleeves down over his wrists, and then he was reaching out, pushing aside the fabric of her simple white bra. Her whole body tensed as his callused thumbs chafed against the taut tips of her breasts, and suddenly she was desperate to feel his mouth against them.
Moving her hands over the hard planes of his chest, she leaned towards him, arching forward, then gasped as his lips fastened on her breast.
She heard him grunt, and then he was lifting her onto the billiard table, pushing her skirt up. His thighs were between hers as he drew first one, then the other nipple into his mouth, his teeth scraping lightly over the rigid flesh.
She moaned weakly. It felt so good, so right...she’d had no idea it could feel like this. Hunger was surging through her and, sucking in a breath, she pressed her hand flat against the hard ridge of his erection.
Groaning, he lifted his head. His jaw was clenched, the muscles in his chest stretched tight.
‘What is it? Is something wrong?’ she asked.
Breathing out shakily, he shook his head. ‘Nothing’s wrong. It’s just I haven’t done this in a while.’ He grimaced. ‘I don’t want it to be over before it’s started.’
Her eyes dropped from the flushed skin of his torso, moved lower. Half-naked, fully aroused, he looked amazing.
She felt a rush of nerves.
And intimidating.
‘Actually, I haven’t done it in a while either,’ she said slowly. ‘In fact, not very much at all.’
He looked at her, eyes appraising her, and then he cleared his throat. ‘But you have done it...?’
‘I’m not a virgin,’ she said quickly. ‘Why? Did you think I was?’
His fingers tensed. ‘Yes, just now...but only because I thought by “not very much” you meant not at all.’