Page 82 of How to Deal
Tathan is all for the kissing. In fact, he practically attacks me. His tongue excitedly explores my mouth. It’s the kind of kissing I feel deep in my bones like a shockwave.
Needing to breathe, we part, gasping, and stare at each other. “Jesus,” he murmurs, running his nose along my jaw, attempting to catch his breath. A slight smirk touches his lips, and his eyes blaze with desire. “I missed you.”
His lips find mine again, my eyes fluttering closed. I fight back a shiver, wanting to melt into him. As he fists my hair in his hands, his groans get lost against my lips.
That kiss is much like that first kiss in the hallway we shared months ago. It’s promising, and then it turns into something else entirely. Impatience.
He glides his lips over mine, firm and demanding, making a groaning sound low in his throat. He tastes so goddamn good.
Our kisses slow, and our breaths give our intentions away. His hands travel over my curves, taking their time before he finds my face again, sweeping my hair from my cheeks.
His touch is heavy and deliberate, his kisses the same. “How about I show you how much I missed you. Inabed.”
I giggle. “By all means, show me.”
His handspalmmy breasts hastily. “Is this okay?”
“It’s more than okay,” I moan in response, drawing myself closer, letting him know it definitely is more than okay. It’s perfect. I never want him to stop.
Hewantsthis, and Ineedthis.
His fingers tangle in my hair once again, tipping my head back to expose my skin for him, feeling my racing pulse under his tongue. His stubble scratches my tender flesh, leaving shivers in its path. I bury my face in his neck, breathing in his rich scent.
There’s no hesitation, only surrendering. Slipping my hand inside his shorts, his breath hitches against my cheek. His stance changes, his body hunching toward mine when my hand wraps around his cock.
I’m drowning in him, his scent, his kisses, his touch.
The desperation in his touch takes over, and he struggles to get closer. I need that, too.
Standing in the middle of my living room now, half-naked, it’s hard to get the right angles.
I tighten my grip on his cock. “Let’s go to my room.” I moan when his teeth drag over my breasts as he yanks my shirt down to reveal my bare skin.
We make our way to my room and to the bed where he lays me out before him. We glide together, his large hands snaking around my back, his mouth eagerly seeking out mine once again.
When his kisses ease, his hands work over me. Gently, they outline my breasts, each one, cupping them with just the right amount of force. His eyes close, his need growing stronger when his hips meet mine—just slightly—but enough.
Easing my bra aside, his hands slide lower, resting on my hips, and then hooks them around the edges of my panties. Each fingertip grazes my hip with just the slightest touch and then some pressure. He bends down, his lips brushing my right breast and then my nipple, giving me a dawdling, deliberate kiss. I love nipple kisses and thegoose bumpsthat follow.
I watch his every move, my fingers finding their way to his hair.
Carefully, his hands travel south, skimming the length of my body. It’s when his touch finds my clit that my lashes flutter.
The low gravel of his voice brings me back. “How much have you missed me?” His eyes hold mine, waiting for my answer.
“Just a little bit,” I tease.
Once he has my panties off, his hands explore my thighs and then back to my hips, and then he’s moving back up my body, to my lips, reclaiming what’s his.
A lurch of excitement moves through me, knowing where this is heading and the idea of his eagerness for it thrills me even more. He’s not in his apartment with Selma. He’s here, with me. And he loves me.
His kisses are tender. . . and it’s then I realize this is completely different from any other time we’ve been together. He’s making love to me. Giving me a piece of himself.
He sits up, pulling his shorts down and then kicks them aside before returning to the bed. My hands immediately move to his cock, wanting that hardness where I so desperately need it. Between my legs.
Holding himself above me on shaking arms, Tathan’s breath washes over my shoulder, my name on his lips. My lashes lower and I arch my neck, giving him more of my skin, more of me in any way.
His hips buck, gliding his fullness between my hands. My other hand grips his arm. His head bends forwardsoall I could see is the sharply defined edges of his shoulders.
