I slowly open them to find his face in mine. So close I can count the dark eyelashes that rim his brilliant blue eyes, notice the little white scar that runs across the bridge of his nose in a fine line. That glimpse of imperfection on his otherwise totally perfect face is comforting somehow.
Silly, yes. But being with a man who’s so incredibly good looking, it’s flat out intimidating. Makes me wonder what he’s doing with plain ol’ me.
“Luce?”
His questioning tone reminds me that he asked me something and I tilt my head back farther, meeting his gaze. “Yes,” I whisper, knowing I should say no. He’s probably trouble. But he just might be worth it. “I want this.”
The pleased smile that curves his lips is nothing short of breathtaking. “Right answer,” he murmurs his mouth a hair away from mine.
Arrogant man.
I can’t take it anymore. She’s so damn tempting, so expectant yet nervous, I’m tired of holding back. I’ve played this waiting game long enough. I’ve never been a patient person. More like I tend to go after what I want without hesitation. My treatment of Lucy for the past few hours is about the most prime example of me being patient you’ll ever see.
She shifts against me, her hand coming up to rest on my shoulder, her touch burning me straight through, and that’s it. My patience snaps.
Tilting my head, I cup the side of her face with one hand and kiss her. Consume her. She parts her lips beneath mine, her tongue tentatively darting out and I groan, my tongue sliding against hers. I slip my other arm around her waist and pull her in, as close as I can get her and she comes willingly.
So perfectly willing. God, what she does to me. I can’t explain. Can’t begin to wrap my head around it so I just…let this happen. Fall into it, fall into Lucy, my need for her slowly but surely consuming me.
Her scent surrounds me, as does her hair, which tickles my skin. It nags at me, this scent I’m familiar with but can’t quite place. She’s half sprawled across my lap as we continue to kiss and I pull her harder so she ends up on top of me, her legs on either side of my hips as she straddles me.
Much like our position last night. Though at this moment, the last thing I’m feeling is drunk and sleepy.
“Gabe,” she whispers against my lips after she breaks the kiss. I shift my head and race my mouth down her neck, kissing and licking and nipping her skin. She shivers and moans, her fingers bunching the fabric of my T-shirt and I want to feel her hands on my bare skin.
She says my name again and I wonder if she’s trying to get out something else. My ego butts in at this precise moment. Am I that good? Do I obliterate her brain cells with only my mouth? I know she’s just about doing the same to me. “What Luce?”
“Are you—do you think this chair will support our um, weight?” Her question is hesitant and she sounds so unsure, so fucking worried, that I get sort of pissed.
Her lack of confidence when it comes to her weight is ridiculous.
“Hey.” I pull away from her slightly, my hands cupping her face, my gaze on hers. She stares at me with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation and I lean forward, pressing my forehead to hers. “Quit with all the worry about your weight.”
“But—”
I silence her with my lips, kissing her so thoroughly that when I end it, she seems to rock a little. Like I spun her out or something. I like that. I like it a lot. “We’re not going to break this couch. You need to cut yourself some slack.”
“It’s just that…”
“Sshh.” I slide my hands down. Down, down, down. Along her waist, her hips, her outer thighs, the back of her knees then up again, over the same path, letting my hands linger on her ass. I squeeze her there, slow and easy and her eyes fall closed, her lips parting on a silent moan.
“Fuck, you are perfect,” I tell her, my voice choked. I’m overcome with need for her but I can’t push her too far. I’m curious about her experience, though whatever she’s lacking she more than makes up for it with enthusiasm. She responds so easily, doesn’t hold back, seems just as in to this as I am.
That’s all I ask for, all I want. I know how to have fun and let loose with women. I can’t deny it. I’ve been with plenty of girls, not a one of them seriously and they all understand that. I make sure they do up front. I don’t bullshit, I don’t feed them lines, I don’t want to give them hope. It’s pointless.
When we started college, Shep, Tristan and I all made a vow to each other that we wouldn’t get involved with a woman. Big mistake, we knew this. Why tie ourselves down when there are so many girls available? It’s college. You’re supposed to mess around.
But then Shep fell first, and fell fucking hard. For a real ball buster too, though Jade is the perfect woman to keep him in line. I like Jade. Their relationship seems solid. But I figured Shep was a total idiot for letting himself get trapped. We had one measly year left and he couldn’t even last that long.
“I am far from perfect,” she whispers against my mouth as she sinks her hands in my hair, pulling me from my thoughts.
Ah, Christ her touch feels good, her fingers tangling in the strands as she slowly strokes me, fingertips massaging my scalp. She’s good with her hands. And it’s like she knows just how to drive me fucking crazy, her tits pressed against my chest, all that lacy goodness that’s covering them making an appearance yet again since her tank top has somehow been yanked down. Offering me a spectacular view of her cleavage.