“Now that we’ve settled on eggplant, how about I make us some cocoa?” Blakely planted a hand on her hip. “Maybe I’ll even add a nip of whiskey or peppermint schnapps.”
“Do you mind if I change into my sweats?”
“Not at all. I’ll probably put on my pjs too.”
Blood rushed to my cock thinking about Blakely in the candy cane striped nighty again. “Sounds good to me.”
She took a few steps toward the kitchen, then turned back. “I almost forgot. I’ve got a very important question.”
“How important?” I teased.
“Super duper important. Are you a whipped cream or marshmallow man when it comes to hot cocoa?” Her blue-green eyes bore into mine like the way I answered this question would determine whether we could be friends. To be honest, I was hoping we might end up as more than friends, or even friends with benefits, at least for the short time I’d be playing her boyfriend.
“Thatisa very important question, but I’ve got an easy answer.” My shoulders rolled as I executed a dramatic shrug. “Why choose? Can’t we get a little wild tonight and have it both ways?”
“Marshmallowsandwhipped cream? At the same time?” she asked. Her smirk lingered, and I got the feeling we might have moved on from talking about hot cocoa.
I took a step in her direction. Her cheeks flushed, and I was sure I didn’t imagine the flash of heat in her eyes. “Sometimes I like a little marshmallow. Sometimes I like a little whipped cream. Sometimes I’m feeling lucky and I get to have both.”
Her chest rose and fell under her thin red sweater. “And you think you’re going to get lucky tonight?”
All the talk about eggplants and cucumbers and cocoa in pjs had me wishing I’d kissed her earlier. Slow footsteps carried me toward her. As I advanced, she backed away until she bumped into the wall. I reached up to rest my palm above her head. Then I leaned down, nudging my nose into her hair until I was close enough to mumble in her ear.
“That depends on you.”
Her chin tipped up, putting her mouth mere millimeters from mine. The scent of something warm, rich, and musky drifted over me. It immediately made me think of satin sheets, a glowing fire, and sex. Lots of sex.
“What do you say, Blakely? Do you want to get lucky tonight with me?” I brushed the shell of her ear with my nose, eager to find out if she tasted as sexy and sinful as she smelled.
She shivered. Her lips parted, and she took in a few shallow breaths. “I haven’t been with anyone in a long time.”
“That’s okay, sugar. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.”
Her palm grazed my hip, then landed on my abs. “I think I want to.”
“You sure?” My cock was ready to engage. Had been since I saw the way she filled out that candy cane striped nightgown last night.
She answered with a nod. Then rose to her tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. This sweet woman had no idea what kind of animal she was about to unleash. I wanted her. Wanted her with a pent-up need that went well beyond a quick roll around in the sack. I couldn’t explain it if I tried. Fuck, I didn’t want to explain it. I just wanted to deep dive into it. Deep dive into her.
I held back, trading tongueless kisses that made me desperate to taste her. Her fingers smoothed over my shirt, then she fisted two handfuls of the soft cotton and pulled me tighter against her. I could have fucked her right there against the hallway wall. My body craved the kind of release I knew she could give me. But I wanted to do this for her.
So instead of pinning her to the wall, stripping off her pants, and plunging into her, I slid my thigh between her legs. She moaned as I pressed into her, putting pressure on the sensitive spot at the apex of her thighs.
Her mouth opened, giving me entrance, and I took that as my sign she was ready for more. Scooping her into my arms, I cupped her gorgeous round ass with my hands and carried her toward the bedroom. She crossed her ankles behind me, her heels resting on the spot right over my ass, and squeezed.
I couldn’t wait to make her mine.
9
BLAKELY
Icouldn’t remember a time when I’d ever been so turned on. My body burned for him, and I wanted him to do things to me that I couldn’t even put into words.
He carried me into my bedroom and kicked the door shut behind us. Then he set me down in the middle of the bed. I didn’t want to let go, so I held onto him, my hands clasped together behind his neck, and pulled him down onto me. His damp jeans grazed the sliver of skin between my shirt and pants.
“Your pants are still wet,” I mumbled, already releasing my grip to reach for his waistband.
He slid them down his legs and kicked them onto the floor. “Are your pants wet too?”