Page 63 of His to Cherish
And proceeded to rock my world.
“It’s been a long time for me. I don’t date often and I don’t do this. Last date I had was over six months ago,” he explained. I went to speak and found it difficult. The pressure he was applying with his thigh against me felt so good and perfect. “It’s probably going to suck for you, if you want this, but I don’t think I can leave a bed with you in it again without knowing what you feel like.” His eyes dropped to my lips, his hand moved to my hip, slowly shifting the hem of his T-shirt until his fingers were against my sensitive skin. “Or taste like.”
I moaned. He had nothing to be concerned about. I could probably find my release based on his words and slight touch alone.
“We should talk about last night.”
“We can, later. It was fucked up and I’ve already told you I’m a mess, but I’m trying here, Chelsea. Trying to figure out my place in the world without my sidekick. It’s not always going to be pretty. But I’m fucking thankful you and David were here last night, even though I know I was hard on you yesterday morning.”
And I gave in. My fingers tightened in his hair and I pulled him closer, his eyes flashing in aroused surprise as his lips pressed against mine and his tongue began seeking entrance into my mouth.
Because I’d wanted him for years. Because I’d felt the attraction between us and he’d admitted it was there.
I caved because I was a woman who wanted to be desired, and at that moment, Aidan desired me. Like he’d said the other night, we couldn’t make promises. We could only try. I knew I’d have to be patient. There’d be steps forward and leaps backward. I already knew that, given the kind of man Aidan was, it would be worth the roller coaster.
“Aidan,” I whispered as he pulled back from a kiss that sent fire straight to my aroused and needy sex. “I want you.”
His lips moved to my throat, my collarbone, and I shifted beneath him. His hand on my hips tightened as his fingers languidly moved against my quickly heated skin.
God, he was so wrong. In no way was this going to suck for me.
“Me, too, Chelsea,” he murmured. “I want you, too.”
My eyes rolled back and I arched my hips, needing more than the pressure of his thighs and the teasing touch of his hands on me. I was so turned on, and it’d been so long since I’d had a man take the time to truly turn me on.
He was driving me crazy.
Slowly he shifted until he was on top of me, his hands braced next to my shoulders and his boxer-covered hips pressed and rolled into me.
“Oh my…”God,but I couldn’t finish. His erection was thick and heavy as he rolled his hips, his eyes on me the entire time. He was impressive, I could tell, but what was more exciting, sexier than anything I’d ever witnessed, was the way his lust-filled eyes couldn’t stop focusing on me.
“Sit up,” he murmured. He helped me up until I was sitting in front of him, my legs draped over his.
His hands trembled and he bit his bottom lip, still looking at me with desire mixed with a pain in his eyes I feared would never fully disappear.
He was nervous. It was the most endearing thing I had ever seen.
I leaned forward, pressed my lips against his, and kissed him. My tongue slid against his lips and my hands framed his cheeks.
“I’ve always thought you were the most attractive man I’ve ever met,” I whispered against his ear when I broke the kiss.
“You’re beautiful,” he replied, and moved his hands to my T-shirt. His nerves dissipated in front of me as he ripped his shirt off of my body and over my head before he flung it to the side. Then his hand was back at my neck, pressing me powerfully back down to the mattress.
The force of the move, the suddenness of it, made me feel his need for me practically rolling off his body.
“God,” he groaned, “you’re so…perfect.”
His lips pressed against mine and I opened for him. I inhaled the taste of him, his scent, as my fingers dug into his hair.
His kiss was powerful. Seductive. Entrancing. I found myself getting lost in the promised pleasure of all that was him and his sure movements as I writhed against the thick bulge in his boxers.
I slid my hands down his back to the fabric at his waist and began pushing them down his hips, revealing my desperation for him. I needed more. More contact. More of him.
He continued torturing me, dragging out every movement with slow and wet kisses along my chest, his tongue licking and his mouth laving my nipples until they hardened, and every swipe of his tongue against me sent a fiery need to my core.
“I want to make this good for you,” he whispered against my stomach as he continued moving lower.
“You already are.” God, he was. Hesowas.
