“Coco.” He said my name with enough force to make me wonder if he was angry at what I’d done. I faced him again and saw his hands fisted at his sides. And there was something other than shock in his eyes. They were darker than they’d been a moment ago, making my nether regions tingle. And was it the oven making it so hot in here?
I felt for the counter behind me. “Yes, friend?”
Rushing toward me, he wrapped his hands tightly around my head. “Don’t.” Then he crushed his mouth against mine, igniting a fire within me that consumed any lingering doubts or desire to play the coquette. I threw my arms around him and molded my lips and body to his. Later we’d probably argue over who started this, but right now all I could think about was getting closer to him.
We kissed like it was the first time, like we were back in his truck and we couldn’t believe we’d just met, like we’d better get our fill of each other because such insane chemistry couldn’t possibly last—surely it would burn out as quickly as it sparked.
But God, God, it felt good.
“Nick,” I whispered as his mouth, that incredible, luscious mouth that had taught me so much about pleasure, moved down my throat. He closed his fingers in my hair, sending needles prickling across my scalp and down my spine. I tugged at the blue shirt, impatient to feel his skin against mine, to wrap myself around him, to get him inside me.
He dropped his arms and I shoved the shirt from his shoulders, but as it dropped to the floor, he did too, sinking to his knees in front of me. Breathing hard, I watched him slide his hands up the outsides of my thighs, pushing the dress to my hips. “Christ, this body,” he whispered, resting his forehead against my white lace panties. His hands flexed on my hips. “I’ve dreamed about this.”
“You have?” My fingers threaded through his thick dark hair.
“Yes. And this.” He kissed me through the lace. “And this.” He dragged the panties down to my knees. “And especially this.” He slid his tongue between my legs, which nearly buckled at the first firm, wet stroke.
At the second stroke, they began to tremble.
By the third, I wasn’t even sure I had legs.
“It feels so good, Nick,” I whimpered. “I don’t think I can stand.”
“Fuck standing.” He yanked my underwear all the way down and I stepped out of them, holding onto his shoulders for balance. As he stood, he reached behind me and hitched my legs up around his hips, my dress riding all the way up to my waist. Our mouths and tongues collided, and I locked my ankles behind him. God, I’d missed this. I’d missed everything about him.
He set me on the edge of the island and I clawed at his white tank, breaking our breathless kiss only to whip the shirt over his head. At first I was so ecstatic to feel his hot skin under my palms, I thought of nothing but running my hands all over his chest and torso and back. Every curve and line on his body begged to be touched, kissed, licked.
Oh yes. There would be licking tonight. I didn’t care if we were just friends, I was going to lick this man up, down, and sideways. I was going to trace his tattoos with my tongue, savor every inch of him, drink every last drop—
And then I remembered.
Taking him by the shoulders, I held him away from me slightly so I could look at his chest, which rose and fell with ragged breaths.
I inhaled sharply.
My name was still there.
My throat tightened. I reached up and ran my fingers over it, black cursive letters on smooth golden skin. Other, unfamiliar tattoos marked his body— animals and symbols and words I’d examine later in delicious detail—but for now, the only one I saw was the one he’d gotten on our ill-fated wedding day. “You still have it.”
“Of course I do.”
“But you could have had it removed, or covered it, or changed it into something else.”
“I’ve never even considered it.”
I swallowed hard, guilt oozing between the layers of desire. I’d transformed my wedding day tattoo into something that symbolized my freedom, rather than be stuck with a permanent reminder of him, of what we’d done. “Why not?”
“Because I like it.” His voice was soft but gruff. “It reminds me of you.”
I had no idea what to say. Damn you, Nick. I just want sex. Don’t make me feel things.
As if he could read my mind, his lips curved into a sexy grin. “Bet you never thought you’d see it again.”
That made me laugh a little. “You’re right about that.” I trailed my fingertips down his muscular abdomen, anxious to stay in the moment. “But I’m glad I did.”
He slid his hands up the insides of my thighs and brushed his thumbs against my pussy, still wet from his mouth. “Me too.”
My breath hitched at his touch, and I reached down to unbuckle his belt, unzip his jeans, and slide my hand inside them.
Yes. This.
I wrapped my fingers around his hot, hard cock, adoring the way his body shuddered as I began working my hand up and down its solid length. This is what I want. This is safe. His mouth reclaimed mine, his hands returning to my head, holding it steady as his tongue stroked between my lips. The tip of his cock grew wet, intensifying the hollow ache inside me.
Widening my knees, I shoved his jeans down at the sides and placed him between my legs, moving the smooth head over my clit.
He pulled back to look at me, a question in his eyes.
I knew what he was asking. “I want this, Nick. I don’t care what I said. I want this. I want you. Now.” I slid both arms around his bare torso and pulled him close, his erection sliding up between my slick folds, pressing against me. “Now,” I whispered against his mouth. “I want you inside me right now.” His cock twitched.