Elian’s eyes don’t leave mine. He finishes his bite, then takes the churro from my weak fingers and offers me a bite, drawing me closer like a snake charmer. With his free hand, he grasps my sugar-coated fingers and slides two into his hot mouth, sending pulses of heat straight to my core.
I can’t take it anymore. I bypass the proffered pastry and dive straight for those lips. Elian kisses me back passionately, the power dynamic between us a push/pull effect, like magnets.
Eventually he must have set down the churro because he pulls back and presents his own sugar-coated fingers, which I immediately wrap my lips around. Elian draws in a hiss of a breath as I suck the sugar off and pops another of my fingers in his own mouth.
A noise in the hallway has me jumping away from him, heart pounding, until I realize it’s just my little brother flushing the toilet. Once I hear his bedroom door close again, I rinse my hands in the sink and glance at Elian sheepishly.
“Um, so don’t judge my messy room, but I think we ought to move in there. The kids tend to be up and down through the night and might come out for water or something.”
“Are you inviting me into your bedroom?” Elian asks with a sly grin.
“Don’t read too much into it.” I slap him on the shoulder lightly. “Consent requires an enthusiastic yes; anything implied or inferred is not consent.”
“Oh, don’t worry, I always wait for an enthusiastic yes.” His voice is a low, sexy purr, and I’m both mortified about the state of my room and dying to get him horizontal.
“Come on.” I grab his hand and lead him down the hall to my room.
Fortunately, the bathroom separates me from my siblings, and my parents’ room is on the other side of the house. So we have a little privacy.
As soon as we’re in my room, I have him sit on the bed and hustle to pick up a little. I’m normally pretty neat but this week was busy and on several days I tried a few outfits then discarded them, so there’s a small mountain of clothes on my chair and several pairs of shoes lying around. The space is small, and the clutter is suddenly overwhelming.
Elian’s warm laugh brings me back to earth. “Sloane, don’t worry about it. You should see my room. This is spotless in comparison.”
“Really?” That makes me feel a modicum better.
“Really. Now come here. I didn’t come over to inspect the quality of your housekeeping.”
I back out of my closet and shut the door to conceal the mess, then step between his legs. “You didn’t?” My voice is breathy, a coy question I can’t believe I’m asking, but I have no other words.
“No, I came to spend time with you.” His warm hands trace the outside of my thighs, roving up to settle on my hips, and he leans forward to press a kiss to my belly through my tank top.
“So, what should we do now?” Another coy, stupid question, but for some reason I want him to say something, tell me what he wants, ask for something so I can give it to him.
His hands reach further back, grabbing my ass and tugging me forward. “Well, first I think you should join me on this bed and kiss me some more,” he murmurs, trailing more kisses across my stomach.
“And then?” I ask breathlessly.
“And then perhaps we remove a few barriers, and I’ll see what it takes to get your enthusiastic consent.”
Chapter15
Elian may not realize this yet, but I’m already prepared to give my enthusiastic consent. I’ve been dreaming about him for four years, and he’s starred in more than a few lurid little fantasies.
Within seconds, my tank top is off and I’m on his lap, kissing enthusiastically. Elian’s gentle fingers rove over my skin, leaving electric trails in their wake, and when I feel him grasp the hooks of my bra, I’m already prepared to shrug out of it, sliding the straps down my arms.
Of course he immediately bends to explore this newly exposed skin, teasing each taut nipple with his tongue while his hand caresses its mate.
My belly clenches, the sensation of his hot, wet mouth on my skin sending pings of electricity straight to my core.
Finally, I can’t take the teasing any more, and I fall to the side, stretching out on my bed and reaching for him. I encourage him to lie on top of me, but he stays on his hands and knees, planting a single kiss on my lips before working his way lower.
Each kiss or flick of his tongue draws a gasp from my lips. By the time he reaches my lower belly, I’m positively writhing with need, and I know he has me just where he wants me.
“Miss King, I have a question for you.” His sarcastic tone does little to dampen my mood.
“Yes, yes, consent, yes!”
“So you give me consent to continue removing your clothing?”