She closes her eyes on a sigh, and her lashes are so long against her pink cheeks. She says, “I don’t actually think you need me to help you. You’ve got a better handle on things than I do.”
“Not true. You might think too much, but I don’t think enough.”
Her gaze meets mine again, and this time she’s smiling.
“Maybe we can both learn a thing or two from each other.”
“Deal,” I say.
“Deal?”
“You help me get my life back on track, help me turn things around, and I’ll help you figure out what you want.”
“And I suppose in your plan, us sleeping together is the first step to figuring out what I want?”
“It’s an option.”
“Silas . . .”
“When I look at you, I see a girl who has it all together, laced up tight like mistake isn’t even a word you know. But I think you’re starting to suffocate. I think that’s why you got arrested Friday, why you came with me, because you needed to breathe.” Her top knots by her neck in a silky bow, and I pull on one of the strings, undoing it. She doesn’t stop me.
“Don’t you think this will only complicate things?”
“Not if you let simple things stay simple. We don’t have to sleep together, not to figure out what you want. I could just touch you. Because Jesus, Dylan, I’ve never cared less about my problems than when I had my fingers inside you. I think I could forget the whole world if I had my tongue there instead.”
And if I were really inside her, inside that tight heat, Christ, I’m aching just thinking about it. She swallows, and when I run my hand down her neck, I can feel her pulse fluttering wildly beneath her skin.
“Silas . . .”
I wait for her to continue, but she doesn’t, and I’m fine with that because I like the way she says my name. Breathy and sweet.
I run my thumb over her pulse again and again, and I know she feels the pull just as strong as I do.
“Don’t think,” I tell her. “Not this time. Go deeper. What do you want? Not what should you want. You want me gone, push me away. You want me here, pull me closer. Simple as that.”
“Simple,” she repeats.
Then she kisses me.
It’s tentative at first, but she doesn’t hesitate when I open my mouth against hers. She tastes just as sweet as I remember, and her tongue slides against mine, hot and needy. Her hands on my chest slip down to grip my waist, and that glide of skin against skin is so damn good. But not enough. Not even close.
I press her back against the counter, and these athletic shorts do nothing to disguise how much I want her. My hardening c**k pushes against her belly, and she breaks the kiss to lean back onto the counter and look up at me. I imagine her that way on my bed, propped up on her elbows, waiting for me to crawl up her body.
Now that the bow on her top is undone, I can see that the line of buttons extends all the way up to her neck. She looks so prim and proper, and it drives me f**king crazy. I just want to rip those buttons off, but the shirt probably costs more than most of my belongings combined. Instead, I carefully slip the first button out of its hole. She doesn’t move, only stares up at me, so I undo a second one.
“You look like you’re thinking again, Pickle.”
Her hands fly up to my chest again, and she pushes me back a few inches, enough that she can stand up straight instead of leaning back to look me in the eye.
“I swear to God if you call me that again, I’m walking right out the door.”
A smile stretches across my face, and I don’t know how she does it. How she pushes everything away until she’s the only thing left in my head. Before she knocked on my door, my head was so f**king dark . . . I’m not sure what I would have done.
“That sounds a little like someone is catching their breath.”
I grip the counter on either side of her and push forward. Her arms bend until they’re trapped between our chests. I lean in until our mouths are inches apart, until I can taste her breath.
Quietly, I ask. “You want me, Dylan?”
She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, and when she lets go, it’s wet and rosy, and I want to pull it between my teeth, too.
“You don’t have to have everything figured out. God knows, I don’t. I’m just asking about right now, in this moment. Do you want me?”
Instead of trying to push me away again, the hands on my chest smooth upward. Then slowly, she slides her hands around my neck until my chest is flat against that smooth, silky shirt.
“Of course I want you. Have you seen you?”
“I see you.”
She swallows, and her eyes bore into mine when she replies, “Yeah, I think you do.”
I pull away enough to pop open another button, revealing the top of her cle**age. She shifts closer, and she’s soft everywhere I’m hard, and the friction turns my spine into a live wire.
“For the record, I still think this might be a bad idea.”
“For the record, I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”
Her fingers trace lightly back and forth over the back of my neck, and I’m a ticking time bomb. Each stroke makes my fuse a little bit shorter, and I need to get those buttons undone before I forget about not destroying her shirt.
With an agility and speed that I was missing today in practice, I have the rest of her buttons undone and her shirt open in seconds. Her bra is this pale purple that cups her small br**sts perfectly. Her narrow waist flares out into curvy h*ps covered by a snug skirt. I can’t decide whether I want the skirt off or hiked up around her waist.
Deciding on the latter, I grip her h*ps and lift her up onto the kitchen counter. There’s a certain appeal in seeing her still in those fancy clothes, but pulled and bunched and revealed however I can manage. I love to see her go from pristine to disheveled all because of me. Slowly, I push the edge of her skirt up her thighs. When I can’t move it any farther, I say, “Lift up your hips.”
She wets her bottom lip, and my c**k twitches at the sight. Her nerves just kick up my adrenaline. I give her a few seconds to adjust, taking two steps back to look at her.
She snaps her legs closed and sits up straight. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to decide exactly what I want to do to you.”
She hunches over, shaking her head and laughing under her breath. “It’s like you’re trying to give me a heart attack.”
“I don’t want to give you a heart attack. I want to make you come. The question is just how.”