Chapter 5
Kevin
And just like at Lindon’s, her mouth sets me on fire. I like kissing, in general—it’s always been a nice way to show somebody I feel close to them—but with Andrea it’s all-consuming. Blots out all thought of anything else, all awareness of where we are… It’s just me and her and this astounding, electric connection everywhere we touch.
Under my hands she’s all full, firm curves and enticing dips and, under that flirty fringe, hot skin like silk.
Next thing I know, we’re in the bedroom doorway, her warm fingers sliding up my abs to my chest, leaving a trail of fire. She breaks the kiss, easing my shirt over my head, and drops it, panting. “I liked the way you looked at me at Lindon’s. What were you thinking?”
My breathing is uneven, my body flooded with sensation and warmth, my brain short-circuiting. “I was thinking…‘What a massively talented woman’?” My frantic fingers find the zipper tab at the back of her dress and pull it down, easing it over her shoulders.
She leans into me in the doorway. It feels incredible but prevents her dress from coming off as I’d hoped. “Funny man. Part of the time you were looking at my boobs.” She leans back to see my face and the dress drops to her waist, leaving her breasts bare and me speechless.
The only way I can touch her is with reverence, cupping the heavy hot weight of her, groaning as her nipples harden against my palms. “To be fair…they’re gorgeous… You’re gorgeous…” I dip my head, take one of the dark peaks into my mouth, and now she’s the one who groans.
“Thank you—ooh!” Her fingers work at the button of my jeans. “I like that you looked…hungry.”
I try to think, but I’m tracing the pattern of curling leaves and vines that leads down into her cleavage and halfway around the underside of her other breast. I press my face there. My lips. Trace them again with my tongue. “I was…jealous of your tattoo artist.”
My fly is open. She’s got her head back, her eyes closed. “Mmm?” She slides her hands around my waist and down into my clothes to clasp my bare butt.
I lose my mind a little more when she squeezes and presses her belly into me. “For getting to see you…all your private spots…” My fingers seek her nipples as I find her mouth for another long, drugging kiss.
She wriggles her hips and the dress drops to the floor at her feet. “Well, not all my private spots…”
I take her by the shoulders and just gaze. All this smooth skin…all these wonderful curves… My hands skim over every bit of her I can see, and some I can’t, squeezing, caressing, worshiping her with touch.
Her eyes close again and she smiles, holding on to my waist. “Mmm…”
My turn for a question. I drag my mouth down her smooth, lovely throat. “When you were singing, when you looked at me, what were you thinking?” Please please please let it not be, “What a boring, vanilla man”…
“I was thinking…what a miracle that you were there, when I had been wishing so hard for somebody like you…” She slides one hand down into the front of my jeans, her fingers wrapping around me over my underwear.
I almost come right then and there. Nothing about this night has been typical or anything like I expected when I agreed to meet Steve and the others. Thank heavens.
Two can play that game. I pull her to me again, put my arms around her and squeeze her behind. Her big, lovely, amazingly curvy, almost-entirely-bare behind. “Oh lordy…”
She laughs. An amused, mischievous, throaty sound. “Don’t they have thongs in Nebraska?”
“Don’t know about the underwear, but I’ve never felt such a wonderful backside in my life.” I keep hold of her. Keep squeezing, caressing, adoring her with my hands, groaning again. I might never stop groaning, because I know I’ll never stop thinking about this, and groaning is the only response to such an experience.
She shoves my jeans and my underwear down, and this time her fingers wrap around my bare skin. “Oh my god, you meet all my requirements.”
I kick off my sandals and pants and manage to let her play for a full five seconds before I pick her up—she’s no lightweight but I have never had a more welcome task—and carry her the two steps to the bed. I’m just about to follow her down when, at the same second, we both say, “Condoms!” Takes me zero point two seconds to retrieve them and then she’s tearing open one of the packets as I ask her what she’d like.
“You. In me. Hard.” Her nimble fingers roll that sucker on, and I am on her so fast it’s embarrassing.
A grown man with a fair amount of experience, with a woman he’s been pretty much worshiping for hours, and instead of keeping my cool and going gentle and easy, I shove my way in like she asked, fast and forceful into the heaven of her body. And I like it.
She rises to meet every thrust, her dark eyes closing, her hands clenching my ass, her back arching and flexing, over and over. “Oh—my god—yes!”
Afraid I’ll come before she’s ready, I brace myself on one arm, slip my hand between us and find her with my thumb. Stroke her, put just a little pressure there with each thrust, and glory in the tiny gasps and sounds of pleasure she makes. Revel in her fierce smile and the wildness of the ride and the strength of her beautiful body’s response to me. To this.
And she’s close…so close. Her muscles clamp down on me. I bend to kiss her and then realize she doesn’t know... Somehow we never got around to... Instead of kissing her mouth, I press my lips to her ear and whisper, “Andrea, I’m Kevin.”
And she’s coming, with my name on her lips. “Kevin!” Coming and coming, arching and laughing with what sounds an awful lot like relief and joy.
And I fall over the edge right after, laughing myself and whispering her name into her ear.
Afterward I slide to her side and we lie there together, my arm across her waist, her fingers twirling my hair as if she doesn’t want to break the connection any more than I do. Eventually our breathing slows but I can’t shed this big silly smile.
She turns her face to look at me. She’s got a faint smile herself. “Kevin, that was… You were exactly who I needed tonight. Thank you.”
I look into her beautiful eyes and trace one fingertip across her brow, down her temple, over her velvety cheekbone, and my mouth says, “You are the first person I have really touched since I moved to North Carolina. I don’t think anything has ever felt this good to me before. So thank you .”
Crap, why did I tell her that? She didn’t need to know that.
***
Andi
I’m not sure what he’s telling me. What it means. “You mean ‘touched’ like…?” I wave back and forth between us, nearly getting distracted by the beauty of his big, muscular body so close. So naked, except for that condom, which is in danger of falling off now.
Is…he blushing ? Because I’m looking at him? Is there no end to the charm of this man?
“No”—he clears his throat and drops his gaze for just a second before meeting mine again—“‘touched’ like having any skin contact at all. Not a hug, not a kiss, no—Well, no, I guess I got a couple of handshakes my first day at school, but nothing…warm. Nothing personal. No, like, enjoying just being with somebody. You know. Leaning on them a little, touching their arm…nothing close . For, like, three and a half weeks.”
“You keep track of the time between these things?” If I’m going to tease him, I’m going to touch him to take any sting out of the words. I run my knuckle back and forth along his sturdy jaw.
He gives me a quick half smile and—more charm. Big, sweet dude actually has a dimple in his left cheek. Freaking adorable . “Ha! Not usually. Took me awhile to realize what was wrong. Why I was feeling so…off.”
His finger moves down my throat to my collarbone. So gentle it tickles.
I see him watching my nipples tighten in response, but he drags his gaze back upward, clearing his throat again. “A couple of days ago I was in a restaurant and this older woman and little girl came in and joined a couple sitting near me, and they all stood up and hugged and were so happy to be together…and I thought, ‘Okay, that’s what’s wrong. That’s what’s missing.’”
“So this”—I wave between us again—“helped make up for that?”
“No. Well, I mean, yeah, but… so much more.” His eyes narrow, his focus shifting to my mouth. His fingers find my chin, tilting it to angle my face toward his.
“Yeah?” I say it just before his lips meet mine.
“I don’t think I can describe it.” His mouth is soft and warm now, his kisses gentle and so leisurely, like he’s planning to do this for a long time.
My tongue brushes his and there’s that belly tug again. I press my body into his. “Try.” Everywhere I’m soft, he’s hard. Everywhere I’m curved, he’s got angles and planes. I’m smooth and he’s dusted everywhere with curly, sun-bleached blond hair, soft and springy to the touch. I take hold of his hip and tilt my head back to let him answer.
“It’s like…if everyday touches are meals—you know, basic nutrition—this, with you, is…a prime rib dinner with a loaded baked potato and a side of jumbo shrimp. Homemade pumpkin pie with real whipped cream.”
I feel a slow, satisfied cat smile stretch across my face. I almost purr. “Please tell me that’s your favorite meal.”
“Yes, ma’am, it certainly is.” His hand is in my hair at the base of my skull now, putting just enough pressure to bring our lips together for another kiss. His half smile and dimple are back.
I could lie here and kiss this lovely man all night. All. Night. I slide my hands up over his shoulders so that every bit of his glorious naked front side is plastered to every bit of mine, and his hands find resting spots behind my neck and on the curve of my ass, holding me just the way I like, right where I want to be.
He’s growing hard again already, Not-So-Little-Kevin rising up against my belly. Makes me want to laugh with pleasure, but he might misunderstand and feel hurt. I tilt my head and break the kiss, brushing my lips across his, admitting, “I too have found this a…an enjoyable meal.”
His smile widens, deepening that dimple, and his eyes half close. The hand at my neck ghosts over my shoulder to cup my breast, his thumb making lazy circles over my nipple. “For you, the food equivalent would be…?”
“Mmm.” My hips roll against him and he hardens more. I arch into his hand. “Barbecue chicken. Grilled veggies.”
He leans in for a kiss.
“Warm, crusty bread with butter.” I’m close to moaning again.
Again he steals a kiss, deeper this time.
“And some kind of deep, dark chocolate cake…”—I can’t stop my gasp as he ducks his head and sucks my nipple into his mouth—“with just a hint of cinnamon.”
“Mmm. You’re making me hungry again.” There’s a rough edge to the words he mutters against my skin.
“I’m… Oh! Hunger can be good.” Mine is approaching starvation. I fumble behind him for the open condom box and pull out another. Reach down between us and pull off the old one.
“Hungry can be very, very good.” He catches his lip between his teeth and pulls back just enough to see what he’s doing, opening the new packet, removing the rubber and rolling it on, taking the used one from me and tossing it to the nightstand with the empty wrapper.
I lift my leg to hook my knee over his hip and he slides right into me. Slides his arm under my waist to keep me close, holds my thigh in the crook of his arm, and starts a long, slow rhythm, rocking in, grinding, sliding almost all the way out. Rocking in, grinding, sliding out. This—he—is exactly what I need tonight. He’s filling my emptiness in the best of ways. His warm eyes, his shy smile, his affection, his big hands, his—
He adds a little twist to his hips on the next thrust and I moan my appreciation. He squeezes my ass and laughs. He holds my gaze, his eyes telling me I’m pleasing him too. Our pace is such a good match, the contact so perfect, that I come even quicker than before, and this time he’s right with me, holding me close as he shudders into me. My release is so total—physical and emotional—that it brings tears to my eyes.
And when he kisses me and says again that nothing has ever felt so good, his words and his vulnerability feel like gifts, and I want to give him something in return.
“Today…was the anniversary of my grandma’s death. I was really sad. Being with you helped me too.”
I fall silent, thank heavens, as he kisses me, his fingers toying gently with the little wisps of hair at my temple. “I’m glad.” His voice is husky. “And I’m sorry about your grandma.”
It’s delicious—almost too comfortable—lying here in his arms, tucked against his big body. Another woman might get used to this lovely feeling. This lovely man.
An uncursed, non-Salazar woman, anyway. But I’m not going to waste precious time thinking of that. His hair is soft in my fingers. I hold him and breathe him in.
But…if I’m not careful, I’ll fall asleep.
I allow myself a few minutes more of this peace, then I nudge his knee with mine. “Kevin, can you take me home?”
His brown eyes are so warm when they open, when he smiles softly and pulls me closer. “Would you stay with me?” His voice is low. Hopeful. “I’d love to sleep holding you.” He trails the backs of his fingers over my cheek, combs them through my hair, then does it again, slowly. It’s magic. Hypnotic. “I have to be at the high school in a few hours anyway, so I could get you home early. Stay with me, please?”
And god help me, I don’t want to leave either. I’ve never spent a whole night with a man, but here I am, snuggling right up to this big, gentle guy I just met, amazed at the way we fit into each other’s arms so right.