Role Playing(78)

She was grateful he’d gone first.

“I’m interested in you too,” she admitted, then rubbed her face against him, like she could snuggle into his chest and smother all the embarrassment out of herself. “But I didn’t want to pressure you. Also, honestly, I didn’t quite know what to do about it.”

“I have a few ideas,” he volunteered dryly, and she laughed into his dress shirt. Then abruptly remembered she was wearing makeup and yanked herself away, checking for residue. “You okay?”

“Forgot I looked like a grown-up for a minute there,” she admitted, and he laughed.

“I think you look beautiful,” he said, with a little half smile. “Then again—I always thought you were beautiful.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, right.”

He stroked her cheek before cupping her chin in his large palm. “It’s more than looks. You aren’t like anybody I’ve ever met. You’re snarky and snarly and sweet and generous. You’re helpful and kind and act like a honey badger to anyone who tries to point it out. You aren’t as mean as you think, but you’re not to be messed with either. You’re brave and smart and loyal and funny. You are amazing.”

God, why were her eyes starting to prickle with tears? She cleared her throat, taking a quick swipe at them with the back of a hand. “You’re amazing,” she pointed out. “You’re consistently compassionate in situations that would have me shrieking like a banshee. You’re patient, and empathetic, and helpful. You care about people, at a time when I swear I’d have left every last fuck behind.”

He snickered. Then he pressed slow kisses against her jawline, his hands moving up to weave into the waves that brushed her shoulders. She sighed softly, submitting to his ministrations.

“You’re also, um, hot,” she whispered.

She gasped when he brushed his beard down her neck, before pressing open-mouthed kisses along her exposed clavicle. She closed her eyes, then let out a little huff.

“Super hot,” she muttered, almost to herself. “Are we . . . should we . . .”

“Just spit it out, Boggy,” he teased, and it was just what she needed.

“Are we going to have sex?” She laughed, shaking her head at herself. “I haven’t had sex with someone else in five years. I haven’t dated anyone in over twenty. I don’t know how to do any of this.” She wondered if she looked as lost as she felt.

He let out a breath, tugging her to sit down on the bed and sitting next to her. “First, I’m in no rush,” he said, and she chuckled again, a little nervously, wondering if that should’ve been her line. “Second, I haven’t dated in over ten years, and I haven’t had sex in that same amount of time.”

“So we’re the blind leading the blind here,” she summarized.

“So, we don’t have to do anything,” he countered. “That said, we don’t have to follow any kind of rules either. I know I’m attracted to you. Really attracted,” he added, his eyes heated. “But there’s no pressure.”

She swallowed. “We could make out,” she ventured. “See how it goes?”

“That sounds good.” He grinned in response. Then he leaned down, and covered her mouth with his.

It had been ages since she’d really been kissed. As her marriage had gone on, and gone south, kissing had become something that fell by the wayside . . . a perfunctory peck here and there, something that accompanied a greeting or goodbye. She couldn’t believe how turned on just pressing her lips to his got her. She felt like she was getting the spins, but in a good way, feeling overwhelmed and yet dreamily floating in the sensations. She moaned softly as he tugged her tightly to him, tilting his head and feasting on her lips like she was the best dessert he’d ever had. His tongue tangled with hers lazily, and she almost forgot how to breathe.

After some period of time (time had lost meaning by that point), she tugged away to take in a shaky breath, absently realizing that they’d gone from vertically sitting side by side to lying down on the hotel bed and taking turns rolling over each other, hands groping, kissing whatever they could reach. It wasn’t quite frantic, but it was close.

It was amazing.

She felt her body vibrating like a crystal wineglass that had been rubbed just the right way, all but keening with the sensations zipping through her. “Oh my God,” she said as he pressed hot kisses against her throat and held her waist. “I could fucking devour you. Are you okay with this?”

His laugh was wrecked and light and tinged with shock, the good kind. She hoped, anyway. “I am so turned on, I would let you,” he responded. “You snuck up on me, then you fucking blindsided me.”

“F-bomb, huh?” She nipped at his earlobe, gratified by his deep growl. “I’m rubbing off on you.”

“If only.”

She froze, realizing she was on top of him . . . and kind of straddling him. She could feel his hard length pressed against her, and she shivered, pressing back and spreading her legs just a tiny bit more.

He slotted right into place, and they both groaned.

“Sex would probably be a bad idea, huh?” she said, half joking . . . half really, truly not.

He sounded breathless. “Whatever’s clever,” he murmured. “It’s your call.”