“I’ll only be looking at you.”
His mouth on mine sends shivers cascading down my arms, both twined tight around his neck as our lips meet and press. We lean back in the same breath and readjust. Something deeper, hotter. He kisses me like he’s telling me a thousand secrets, each one something different. I missed you, his first kiss says—soft and lingering against my bottom lip. You’re so pretty, says the next—a sweet, teasing brush. I want you, says the last one—a hungry, grasping thing as he licks into my mouth and holds my face against his. So fucking bad—his fingertips sinking into my hair.
His hand fists and pulls, a slight hint of roughness that earns a desperate sound low in my throat. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted someone so much. Not even at the bar that first time. I roll my hips down onto his and he pulls his mouth away to suck in a lungful of air. I like that he hasn’t stopped me—that he hasn’t asked if this is something I want. He can feel it vibrating through me, same as him. Perfectly in tune. I circle my hips again and he exhales a shaky laugh.
“You feel better than I remember,” he says.
I grin. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”
He smiles up at me, his grin a little wild. I take back what I thought about his half-smiles. This is the one I want to keep. “I’ve already seen your tits, Evie.”
A laugh bursts out of me, muffled by a rough kiss against my lips. It’s clumsy, the both of us smiling into it. I want him to ask me here, like this. That same question he asks every evening while we sit on his back porch, the sun dipping low in front of us.
Did you find your happy today?
Yes, I would tell him. I found it right here. With you. Like this.
I reach for the hem of my shirt and I pull it over my head. His hands immediately slip up my belly, thumbs rubbing in a firm sweep below my breasts. I let my head drop, my hair tickling at the small of my back. It feels so good everywhere he touches. I only want more.
“You cold?”
I shake my head and reach for the clasp of my bra. “Not with your hands on me.”
His eyes flare. He likes that answer. The material of my bra falls away and I’m bare skin in the moonlight. I feel Beckett’s deep exhale brush the valley of my breasts, the tip of his nose following after. Big hands bracket my hips and slide up my back—a delicious pressure on both sides of my spine. He curls his hands around my ribs and tugs me closer.
“What about my mouth?”
I card my fingers through his hair and twist, urging him forward. He chuckles at my wordless response and nuzzles into me, pressing deep, sucking kisses below my collarbone and at the top of my ribs. His hands squeeze and he urges me further back, holding me suspended at exactly the right angle for his kisses. He barely grazes my chest and instead skips to my shoulder, the line of my neck. Everywhere but where I want them most. I arch my back, tugging at his hair impatiently.
“Beckett,” I say on a gasp, his stubble perfectly rough against my chest. He drags his jaw against me and I grind my hips down. One hand leaves my back to cup my breast, fingers pinching roughly at my nipple. I make an incoherent sound and pull at his hair again, demanding relief.
“Just wanted you to get bossy again,” he teases, mouth busy at my throat. He dips his tongue there as his fingers pinch again and my whole body shivers.
“You could have just asked.”
“This is better.”
He finally puts his mouth to my breast and I sigh his name, my hands held tight to the back of his head. He feels so good. Warm and wet and just the right amount of rough. He nips with his teeth and the stars shake in the sky.
I hate that I decided to wear jeans tonight. I can feel him thick and hard against me, but the friction is dulled by our layers, every roll of our bodies against each other urging my frustration higher. I want to feel his bare skin beneath me, satisfy the ache low in my belly. I feel itchy with need, thrumming with it.
He smooths his palm down my bare back. “Relax,” he whispers under my ear. “I’m gonna take care of you.”
“You relax,” I grumble back, frustrated by his half-touches. I’m too keyed up for a drawn out tease. I feel like it’s been weeks of foreplay between us. I feel every lingering glance, every restrained touch. I want him hard and fast and filling up every inch of me until I can barely breathe with the pressure of it. He gently lays me back against the blanket and my hair spreads around me, my knees still hugging his hips as I fall flat. I tug on his belt loops with a frown. He thumbs at the edge of my lips with a smile.
“What’s this face for?”
“You’re teasing me.”
“I’m not,” he shakes his head and rolls his hips against me, a deep, dirty grind that has his eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks. A lock of hair falls over his forehead and I press it back with the palm of my hand. A man losing his grip, finally. “I’m trying to go slow,” he grits out.
“Also defined as teasing.”
He huffs a laugh and leans down until he can lick a hot stripe between my breasts. He moves his head to the left and catches the tip between his teeth, follows it with a deep sucking pull that has me arching up off the blanket.
“I’m just trying to hold myself together,” he says into my skin, his hands batting mine away from his jeans. He quickly finds the button of mine instead, slipping it free and tugging at the zipper, his movements quick and agitated. He jerks the stubborn material down my legs with a grunt—only halfway down before he gives up completely, distracted by the sight of plain white cotton. He groans and tightens his grip on my thighs.
“I had a plan,” he says, eyes still fixed on the line of unimpressive cotton at my hips. I wiggle under his stare.
“Oh? Feel free to share it.”
“I was going to make you come and then take you home,” he says in a low voice, his eyes blazing a path up my body. He fixes me with a hungry look and flexes his hands again. “But I don’t think I can.”
“You can’t make me come?”
He releases my thigh to smack lightly at my ass. Goosebumps erupt on every square inch of my body.
“You know I can, honey.”
I feel a sharp pull low in my belly—a string between his words and the desire running hot through my blood. “Did you come up with a new plan?”
He considers, gaze lingering on the two inches of soft, smooth skin between my belly button and the edge of my underwear. I’ve had his mouth there before, while I was propped up against the edge of a dresser with my hands in his hair. I want that again. I want a million other things, too.
“Up,” he commands, tapping once at my bare hip. When I lever my body up, he curls his hands in my jeans and tugs, pulling them off with three rough jerks. I’m in nothing but a sensible pair of white cotton briefs while he’s still fully dressed, out in the middle of a grove of trees in the dark of night. It has me shivering beneath him, hands clenching in his shirt.
I clutch at it. “Off.”
He reaches between his shoulder blades with one hand and pulls it over his head, biceps flexing as he throws it to the blanket. He collapses back on top of me, his mouth on mine, his body a delicious, warm pressure tucking me down, down, down into the ground. I curl my legs around his hips and lock my ankles at the small of his back, denim rough against the inside of my thighs. His zipper bites into my skin and I flex my legs higher, his chest pressed tight to my breasts and his inked arms holding me tight. I focus entirely on him—the heat of his body and the hollow ache between my legs.