Star-Crossed Letters (Falling for Famous #1)(84)

I end up under him, laughing, until I’m not laughing anymore. We both pant as he hovers over me, his hands holding mine above my head, our bodies aligned perfectly so I feel his hard-on through his jeans, and again that liquid heat pools between my legs.

He moves. Just a little. And, oh shit, I need more.

He leans over me, arms bracing on either side, taking me in.

“You are so lovely. I wish you could see yourself as I see you.”

He reaches out and plays with a strand of hair that rests against my breast, teasing it across my nipple. I squirm. Every part of me is on fire. At that moment, I feel lovely. And powerful.

He captures my mouth again, and we kiss like that for long minutes, alternating between soft and gentle and sweet to frenzied and back again. Even as our kisses remind me of that night we made out in his hotel room, it’s also completely different.

Our hands are everywhere. There’s a purpose to this, but he’s letting me set the pace, holding back even now. I know, without him saying it, that it’s up to me to take this further, that if I don’t, he’ll kiss me all night until our lips bruise from it.

But he already knows I want him.

I awkwardly undo the first button of his jeans.

He exhales sharply.

My breath is ragged. Chase overwhelms me in every way possible. His words, his kisses, his gentleness target that soft center of me and turn me inside out.

I unzip his pants as our mouths claim each other.

He makes his way to my breast, sucking on my nipple long and deep, nipping it and causing me to gasp before lavishing attention on my other breast.

I grind myself against the huge, hard ridge of him. I can’t get close enough.

“I want to make you come.”

“Yay,” is all I can manage. I mean, does the man expect me to argue?

I lie there, bare to him, proof that I had indeed gotten rid of my wet underwear earlier.

One talented finger slowly teases my clit until my hips are moving against his hand.

“You’re torturing me,” I moan, shifting restlessly. Sweat breaks out on my forehead.

“You know how many times I’ve pleasured myself, imagining you like this?”

I can’t answer because just thinking about him with his dick in his hand short-circuits my brain and takes me even higher.

His mouth tracks down my body, kissing each nipple, and then down to my stomach and continuing on. If I weren’t so mad with lust, I’d stop him. The act seems too intimate, embarrassing even, to have a man tasting me, smelling me, feeling the evidence of just how wet I am.

But the way he whispers my name with such reverence and hunger and licks me like I’m his favorite flavor of ice cream is incredible. I’m dissolving into pure sensation.

My hands go to his hair, pulling at the strands, pulling him closer.

He licks and sucks until I go higher and higher, until it’s all too much, and I explode.

Shattered, I finally settle back into the world. He’s there next to me. It’s cute how proud he looks. He brushes the hair out of my eyes as I try to get my breathing under control, aftershocks still working their way through my body. I smile shyly back, feeling my full body blush.

“Um…thank you?” I say.

“My pleasure,” he murmurs.

I shake my head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“I fucking loved eating you out. Your taste makes me crazy.”

He grasps my hand and tugs it down to the front of his jeans. “Proof I enjoyed it.”

Warmth flows through me at the feel of him. I cup him through his jeans, dying to feel him naked.

“God, you feel so good,” he whispers.

“You do,” I whisper back. “I want to feel you naked.”

I drag the zipper down. It surprises me he isn’t wearing underwear, and I wonder when he removed his own wet boxers. I’m so glad not to have one more thing between him and me. He’s silk and steel, but the sheer size of him intimidates me. I gently hold him, brushing my fingers against his length.

He gasps in response.

“Was that okay?” I ask, unsure of how to touch him, wishing I had more experience, feeling like a student showing up at a midterm without studying.

He laughs. “So much better than okay. You’re killing me, Olivia. In the best way possible.”

“I’ve never done this,” I admit. “I know the women you’re with are experienced.” I falter.

He watches my hand slowly stroke him, but at my words, his hot eyes meet mine.

“I’m like a teenager with you,” he says. “Trying my best not to embarrass myself the second you touch me. I love that no other man has had you. That I’m the first.”

I laugh. “It sounds like you’re staking your claim in a new land. Are you going to plant your flag? That Chase James was here?”

“Damn right.”

I can’t help the big, silly grin on my face.

He grins back at me.

He has dozens of ways to smile. I’ve seen them in person and on the big screen.

But this smile, I’ve never seen before. It’s dorky and sweet and sexy, all rolled into one, and it mirrors my dazzled one. I’m the human equivalent of the heart-eyes emoji, and I’m too happy to even care that I’m showing him my entire hand. It’s all there for him to see.