The Build Up (42)

Porter shrugged, sheepishly tucking his hands back into his pockets. “You know what I mean. I was never one for poetry, which is why I got a C in English Lit in college.”

I began laughing, then wrapped my arms around Porter’s neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. At first it was slow, as our tongues got reacquainted with each other, then sped up rapidly. His tongue met mine stroke for stroke. A tingle tickled the underside of my jawline as we kissed.

“What are you doing, Ari?” Porter whispered against my lips.

“It’s called kissing,” I replied. “I’m very good at it. Remember?”

Porter withdrew his warm, berry tasting lips. “I thought we both agreed to...”

I put a finger against his lips. “Shh. You talk too much, Harrison.” Then we found each other’s lips again.

We both pulled back from the scorching kiss just as the Escalade pulled up. The driver, an older blond gentleman, swiftly opened the door, and we both slid into the back seat.

Porter placed a hand on my thigh, the heat of his palm coursing through my skin. I could see the erection in his dress pants becoming increasingly uncomfortable. I buried my lips in the curve of Porter’s neck, kissing it softly. His moan quickly evolved into a low growl as my lips traced a pathway from his neck to his lips, and back again. Porter’s hands found their way under my shirt, feeling my nipples, stiff to the touch. It had been so long since someone touched me, my body responded hungrily. My panties dampened with each stroke of his thumb across my nipples. I moaned into Porter’s mouth, which encouraged his hands to dip from my nipples to the folds of my waist. I felt his fingers slip between the band of my skirt, inching closer to my pelvis. We were giving the driver a show, not bothering to care about the partition that was down. Between our kisses, the trippy jazz music the driver streamed were the only sounds we heard.

I pulled Porter’s hands out of my skirt. “Don’t go home, Porter.”

Surprised, Porter licked his lips slowly, as if to savor our moment. “Are you sure? Because it won’t upset me if you change your mind. I won’t do this...not if you’re not ready for this. I meant it when I said I would wait for you.”

Admittedly, all that tempranillo had made me bold as hell. “I want you to come home with me. Can you do that? Can we just focus on tonight and we think about the rest later?”

I gave the driver my address and watched as he input the information into his navigation system.

“With traffic, we will be there in twenty-five minutes, sir, ma’am,” he said with a slight grin as he finally rolled up the partition.

“Can you wait twenty-five minutes?” Porter asked, with a smile so sexy that I wanted to jump his bones immediately.

With my lips to his ears, I nibbled and replied, “The question is, can you?”

Porter pulled away, then stared at me. “Twenty-five minutes, Ari. We have twenty-five minutes to think about this. To think about something that’s going to change who we are to each other for the rest of our lives.”

Fuck. I adjusted my skirt, sat back, and stared out the window. “Okay. Twenty-five minutes.”

I chewed the inside of my jaw. Should we do this? Could I blame it on the wine and abject touch-starvation? How would everything change?

“Twenty-four minutes.” Porter shook his head. “Whatever we decide, trust me, I’m not going anywhere.”

I felt Porter reach for my hand and interlock his fingers with mine. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder. Porter pressed a kiss to my forehead.



Chapter Sixteen


Porter


Twenty-five minutes later, Ari was tugging on my belt, which was a hassle to unbuckle, as she led me up the steps to her door.

We’d taken the full twenty-five-minute ride to think about this. I meant what I said: no matter what, I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d still wait. But before I could say anything, Ari turned to me and whispered, “Come inside.”

She could barely get the key into the door when I began kissing her, unzipping her skirt, and pulling it down. Ari loosened my tie and threw it on the floor as she kicked off her heels. I was already out of my jacket, quickly unbuttoning my shirt before throwing it to the ground. My chest rose deeply with each yearning breath. I began kissing Ari’s neck, following the hollow between her breasts as I unbuttoned her shirt.

“You have on way too many clothes,” I said, growling hungrily into her decolletage, the faint scent of her perfume still lingering.

“And you have on a belt that’s way too complicated to unbuckle.” I laughed as I finished unbuckling my belt, sliding it gingerly out of the belt loops. Ari unbuttoned the fly of my pants, pulling me close to her as her fingers pulled down the zipper. Finally, I shimmied out of the heavily starched pants, standing there in my black boxer briefs and maroon, pink, and brown argyle socks. Ari giggled.

“What?” I asked, looking down at my socks. “You hate my socks, don’t you?”

“No! They’re adorable,” she said, trying to hold in her laughter. I thought they were a whimsical pop of color. I guess she begged to differ.

“Fuck that. I’m not about to do this, standing in these socks like a grandpa.” I hopped on alternating feet as I took off my socks, which was entirely too difficult to do after several bottles of premium wine.