I devour him with my eyes and he must feel the nip of my teeth. Must sense the he can get it coming off me in ho-waves. He steps in, closes the door, and presses me into the nearest wall. There’s no preface to this kiss. No permission needed because my arms are already tangling around his neck and my tongue is aggressive, sparring with his. When his fingers brush over the skin at my waist, bared by my crop top, there’s reverence and urgency in his touch. His hands skid down to my ass and squeeze. He groans against my mouth and I moan into his. Desperation rises up and overtakes us. His hand slips beneath the waistband of my sweatpants, his fingers searching and unerring in my panties, caressing my clit for the first time.
“Shit,” I pant, breaking the kiss and dropping my head to his shoulder, sensation rocking me from the core. “Canon.”
“I told myself I wouldn’t let this happen.” He sucks at the curve of my neck. “I don’t want our first time to be in your foyer, but fuuuuuck, Neevah. I missed you. You look . . .”
He dips his head, disappearing beneath the cropped edge of my sweatshirt. His mouth opens over my breast and he takes me through the skimpy lace of my bra. His tongue is hot and wet and hungry on my nipple. He sucks hard, his teeth closing around the tight bud, sending a jolt through me that turns all the cartilage in my knees to mush. I reach between us and find his cock, hard, ready, huge in my palm. I tug once, twice, and again until he growls and straightens abruptly. He pulls my top down and into place, and much to my pussy’s dismay, withdraws from my panties.
“No.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “I have plans.”
“But I have a bed.” I tip my head down the hall. “It’s a long drive to Santa Barbara. We could just take the edge off.”
“Neevah, no. I mean . . . yes. Hell, yes.” He drops a kiss on my forehead, wraps his palm around my nape. “But I didn’t wait this long for you to rush. I want this to be special.”
He angles his head so our gazes hold. “You are, special. You know that, right? I don’t do this. Everyone talks so much about Camille, but in my whole career, she’s the only actress I’ve ever dated.”
“She was special, too, then, huh?” I ask, holding my breath. Not that if he says yes it changes anything between us. I’m not above jealousy, though.
“Sure,” he says, nodding slowly. “But we weren’t right for each other. When I realized that, we’d already started. I had to shut it down. It was only going to get messier and more involved.”
“She loved you?”
His stare doesn’t falter, honesty on display. “She thought she did, yeah.”
“You thought you loved her?”
“I thought maybe I could, but I quickly realized I was wrong.” He takes a step back, giving me room to breathe. “If you have any reservations about this, I understand. I want you. I’m tired of fighting how much I want you, but I will respect your wishes, and it won’t affect anything in our working relationship. I promise you that.”
How could he think I could walk away now? I’m still wet from his touch. My heart is still thudding, scurrying around its little chamber like a trapped rabbit. And I still want him, not just the sex. Yes, oh my, yes. I want that, but I also want the secrets behind his guarded eyes; the sentiments locked away in his heart. And if I didn’t know before, I know now.
I’m willing to risk a lot to have it.