The very, very dirty kind.
He nibbled with his lips, a slow crawl along her jaw, a torturous pursuit that left her panting. Her skin was on fire beneath the layers of coat and clothes between them, and if her heart pounded any harder or faster, they were going to have to dial 911.
“Or maybe here,” he murmured, his voice hot against her skin as he lowered his lips to the tip of her collarbone.
Gretchen curled her fingers into fists against the comforter. Eyes squeezed shut, she tilted her head to give him more room to keep exploring, keep digging. By the time he found the exposed curve of breasts in the open V of her shirt, she was trembling. And when he bent to lick the valley between them, she gasped out loud.
“Colton.”
“Patience,” he whispered, blowing on the skin he’d just kissed.
“That’s not one of my virtues.”
“I’ll make it worth the wait.”
“Promises, promises.”
“I promise,” he said, moving a half inch to the left. “To explore.” Another kiss. “Every inch of you.” He pulled her shirt aside, and a primal need had her arching upward, her nipple in search of his mouth, but all she got was another gentle puff of air as he blew on her.
Then his mouth landed on hers, and the decision became moot. He jumped, and she jumped with him. Gretchen wove her fingers in his thick hair and opened wide for his kiss. When he lowered fully on top of her, she spread her knees to welcome the hot, heavy pressure of him between her thighs.
“Hurry up,” she rasped. She meant for it to sound sarcastic. It came out desperate.
“This is my exploration, remember? I’m gonna do it my way.”
With agonizing slowness, he fumbled with each button, exposing more and more of her skin as he inched downward. And finally, when the last button was open, he slid her shirt wide open, rose on his elbows, and gazed down at her. His nostrils flared as he gazed at her bra, black lace over taut nipples that begged for his touch.
“Take this off,” he ordered.
Yes, sir. She wiggled to sit up, reached behind her, and unhooked her bra. And then his hands replaced hers, sliding both her shirt and the black lace from her body before tossing them both somewhere. With a gentle push, he sent her onto her back once again, and his exploration began anew. His palms rolled atop her nipples. Gretchen arched into him, seeking and finding. He played with her, toyed with her, flicking his thumb over the taut nubs, rolling them between his fingers.
“Colton,” she moaned, covering his hands with hers, “either put your mouth on those or stop before you kill me.”
“So demanding,” he chuckled. But finally, he gave her what her body craved. His tongue flicked her nipple, followed quickly by a nip of his teeth. Every nerve ending in her body sparked to life.
“Colton.” Her voice came out a tortured groan. She gripped his head and directed his lips to her right nipple. She wanted it hard. He gave it soft. The tip of his tongue traced her, licked her, teased her. Her body acted on its own, arching into him again, and he moved to the other nipple, tormenting her again with his restraint when all she wanted from him was rabid.
She couldn’t wait a second longer. If they were going to do this, they were going to do this now. She grabbed the hem of his shirt and tugged it from his jeans, and after that it became a scramble of frantic disrobing every bit as hurried and clumsy as when they’d stumbled into his hotel room after Mack and Liv’s wedding. What was this between them? What force of nature made one body, one person, crave another long past the point of desire until it was something simpler, something urgent, something primal?
Colton rose on his knees and lifted his T-shirt over his head. Then he grabbed her hands and brought them to his stomach. She scratched the coarse hair that covered the lean outline of abs. God, she remembered this, what his skin felt like.
His eyes fluttered shut. “God, Gretchen,” he rasped. “You have no idea how often I dream about you touching me.”
He fumbled with the button of his jeans. Hands shaking, she did the same with hers. He swore twice as his fingers slipped from his zipper, but finally he freed himself. His erection strained, and all she could do was stare. She wanted him so bad. She wanted him now.
Gretchen lifted her hips and shimmied her pants down, and, fuck, as she did, his hand came around his erection and he began to stroke himself lightly.
“Only you,” he rasped. “You’re the only person who does this to me.”
Gretchen tried to free one leg from her jeans. Just one leg. That’s all she needed to get out. His hand worked himself as he gazed at her breasts. It was the single most erotic thing she’d ever seen.