Wouldn’t I be crazy not to just let myself enjoy the experience?
He parks his car, and I hesitate. Am I letting him stay the night again?
As if he reads my mind, he says, “I won’t stay the night. But I am gonna walk you in.”
Ten minutes later, he has me pinned against the living room wall, his hands roaming up inside my shirt. My body comes alive every time he touches me. Every time I’m near him. I may think I don’t want to get involved with Joey LaTorre, but my body has an entirely different idea. And I know from massage therapy that the body doesn’t lie. What I don’t know is what exactly mine is saying to me.
I try to draw a line in the sand as he kisses up the side of my neck. “Joey…I don’t want a relationship, okay?”
His teeth clamp over my earlobe, and his thumb dips in my mouth, and I find it hard to remember why.
“Okay, so no relationship,” he purrs in my ear. “I can live with just sex.”
I squirm, but it’s to grind my pelvis against his leg, rather than to pull away. “I didn’t say I wanted sex,” I pant.
“Really? Because I think we have mad chemistry.” His lips move down my neck, the flick of his tongue in my ear sending zings of electricity straight to my core. “I promise I’ll make it worth it. No strings.”
“So you do just want sex?” I’m breathless, my body not matching my words as I rub my thigh up and down his leg, arching into the palm he molded over my breast. “We can scratch the third date?”
“No, baby. It’s not just about sex for me.” His two hot hands roam under my shirt to stroke up and down my back. “But I’m okay if that’s all it is for you.”
His words shock me from the inside out. Something about the cocksure guy being willing to settle for whatever bone I throw him weakens my defenses. Not that I should believe anything he says.
“I don’t usually do this.” I open my thighs wider to allow his searching fingers access. My knees buckle when his fingers find my swollen sex and expertly spread my moisture over the whole of my plump folds.
“I know.” He loops one arm around my waist, holding me up as his other hand coaxes a soft moan out of me.
“What,” I gasp, “do you know?”
“You’re a good girl. You don’t want anything to do with a bad boy like me. Except bad boys can be exciting...don’t you think?”
I orgasm against his hand, my hips bucking as I lose my footing and fall completely back over his arm.
“That’s it, Sophie.” His fingers continue to slide in and out of my sex, then over my clit as the spasm rockets through me.
When the climax ends, I sag against him, wanting to simultaneously laugh and weep. I should find my own feet and hold my own weight, but it feels so good to be suspended, arching wantonly over his arm. I can’t remember when I’ve felt so sexy or desirable. And he was right—it was totally worth it.
I straighten at last. “Whew!” I meet his gaze a little sheepishly. “I suppose I owe you now?”
He gives me his slow, predatory smile and wraps his other arm around my waist, pulling me against him. “I’ll wait until our third date.”
Dear God, this man’s confidence makes me go weak. New prickles of desire sweep upward from my center core to my throat.
“Saturday.”
I start to nod helplessly then remember my date with Bruce. “I can’t—I have plans, with, uh…” I don’t want to bring Bruce into it. “—my friends. How about Sunday? I’ll make you dinner.”
He grins, clearly pleased with that idea. “I’d love that.” He brushes his lips across mine, kissing lightly as his thumb traces over my cheekbone like I’m precious to him.
Disconcerted with my reaction to it, I pull away, flushing. “Next Sunday, then.”
He smiles as if he knows exactly why I turned skittish. “What time? Five o’clock?”
“Sure.” I walk toward the door.
He trails me to it. “Good night,bella.”
“Good night. Thanks for tonight. I mean, the musical. And the other thing. Yeah. Thanks!” Dear God. I need to get a grip.