Chapter 14
Amelie
“Oh. Well. That’s a little different.”
“How so?”
“I love kissing. But, you know what I see most often in my couples? A lot of guys don’t know what to do with their hands when they kiss a woman.”
“Now, this I have to hear.” He leans away enough that he can look down and see my face as I answer.
I shrug. “Most men think kissing isn’t all that intimate. They think it’s just a precursor to the party, but kissing is the most intimate thing you can do.”
“Agreed. Wholeheartedly.”
I sneak a glance at him, but his head rests against the back glass, and his eyes are closed. The thought ricocheting around in my brain like a pinball hits me so fast and so hard, I can’t ignore even if I wanted.
I rise to my knees and straddle his hips before he has any clue I’ve moved. I’m small, and I’m fast.
“Whatcha doin’?”
“Prove me wrong, or at least try. I’m in your lap. Where do you put your hands? Where would a woman want you to put them?”
He studies me quietly for a bit, and when he finally speaks, he sends my heart rate into overdrive. “I’m not too awfully concerned about where just any woman would want them. I am, however, particularly interested in where the woman currently straddling my thighs would want them.”
“Why don’t you ask her?”
He raises one eyebrow and tips his head towards me. “Where, Amelie?” It’s a whisper, so quiet I almost don’t hear him, and we sit only inches apart.
“One on my hip…”
His left hand grazes my knee, slides up my thigh, and curls around my hip, his fingers squeezing the flesh of my butt, and his thumb falling into that little dip where my thigh meets my torso.
I shiver, the warm weather be damned.
“And the other?”
“On my neck, in my hair.”
He lifts his right hand towards my face and traces my hairline down to my cheek, his touch so soft I barely feel it. “My God, you’re like porcelain.”
His fingers skim over my jaw, and his thumb rests where my earlobe stops while the rest of his hand wraps around the nape of my neck, his fingers tangled in my hair. The air in my lungs escapes my mouth in tiny puffs of air that get harder and harder to control. I hear a little whimper and realize it comes from me.
He smiles. “Am I doing it right so far?”
“Mm-hmm.” The man has relegated me to sounds, and he hasn’t even kissed me yet. There’s an irresistible pull – even for a woman like me – to a man that knows what to do with his hands.
“So what’s next?”
I clear my throat and blink slowly once, twice, trying to process what he asks. “Let’s see if you can figure out what to do with them once you kiss me.”
“I’m gonna kiss you?” The look on his face is pure mischief.
Laying one hand on his chest and winding the other into the thickest, most gorgeous head of soot-black hair I’ve ever seen on a man, I lean forward until my forehead lays against his. “Lord have mercy, I really hope so.”
His hand pulses on the back of my neck, and his mouth lands on mine before I can blink.
Jesus, Mary, and Joseph in a rowboat. Every nerve ending awakens, every hair on my body stands at attention, and – damn it – I’m gonna have to shave again after the night of a million goosebumps. The man kisses the absolute breath out of my body.
He fists his hand in my hair and tightens it just enough to get my attention. A groan rises from a guttural place, and it surprises me. Even more surprising? I pull my mouth from his and whisper “more” against his lips.
The grunt is his that time as he pulls my body flush with his and shifts his hand from my hair to the base of my throat. He doesn’t grab, he doesn’t squeeze, he just lays his thumb on my pulse and keeps it there while he obliterates me.
The level of sensory input he doles out in those moments should send me careening for the safety of my apartment where nobody else will be, but all I can think is how I can’t get close enough to him. Our hips are practically fused together, and all my brain chants is more, more, more.
Speaking of my hips, they’re acting entirely without permission, grinding against him, seeking desperately for the spot that aches in ways it never has before. Like I told him earlier, I’ve been aroused. I’ve felt the tingles and twitches of attraction.
But this is next level, what he’s doing to me. It’s uncharted territory. And I’m more than happy to let him show me exactly where we need to go.
“Carter.” I pull my mouth from his again, and his lips fuse to my neck.
“Carter,” I repeat.
“Hmm?”
“How far are we from your place?”
“Too far,” he shoots back quickly. He nips at the skin where my neck meets my shoulder and drags his tongue across it to act as a balm.
“I’m so…oh my God,” I trail off when one hand scales the length of my spine, landing at the small of my back. He pulls me closer to him, if that’s even possible at this point, and rocks his hips into mine. I feel his hard, rigid length and grind down on it, hitting all the right spots.
“Shit,” he grumbles out. “Amelie, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind when we left the club. I need you to know that.” He peppers his words with gasps and pauses and surprised inhales as I keep moving against him. “Damn it, you’re dangerous.”
Those are heady words for a woman like me. There’s very little that’s dangerous about me, and sometimes I feel like the safest person alive. His words give me power I’ve never felt.
“You’re telling me you didn’t follow me with the intention of taking whatever this flirtation was any further?”
“Intention? No. Hope? Desire? Hell, yes.”
“Where are your hands, Carter?”
His eyes never leave mine. “Exactly where they’re supposed to be. Do you agree?”
I nod, holding the eye contact steady. “Too far from your place, huh? You sure about that?”
“I’d be a danger to society, driving like this.”
I tilt my head back and laugh…openly, freely, surprisingly. “You’re good for my ego, Mr. Ortiz.”
He thrusts his hips into mine. “Well, fuck. What’s that thing the kids say? New kink unlocked?”
I bend my head and attack his face with tiny, fleeting kisses from one cheek to the other, laying a few on his mouth. “Take me home.”
“You’re positive?” he asks, his hands buried in my hair.
“Completely.”
“Hot damn.”