“So pretty…” he whispers against my mouth.
And still, despite all the lead-up, he’s not in a hurry. His lips barely graze mine, little whisper kisses that make me shiver with delight and anticipation.
Strong hands settle at my waist, pulling me against him. My arms wind around his neck as I press my chest to his. I like how warm and strong he feels, and the fact that he has a good six inches on me.
When he finally presses his lips firmly against my mouth, I sigh into them.
“God, you’re sweet.” He cups the side of my face with his hand, wraps one arm around me and then slides his tongue past the seam of my lips.
All I can do is respond in kind, seeking out his warmth and the hunger that practically emanates from him. Every move, every touch, is practiced, like he’s done this a million times—with me. I’m not innocent, having enjoyed a good amount of sex in my twenty-eight years, but no one’s ever kissed me so perfectly.
His lips are firm but soft, his mouth greedy but giving, his touch erotic but gentle.
And I’m completely swept up.
My body yields as quickly as my lips and I melt into his embrace, soaking up his vigor and his passion.
“Babe.” His voice is raspy as he pulls away. “It’s late and the storm… I don’t have any condoms.”
I shake my head. “That’s okay—I do. Shower first?”
“Yes.” He grabs one of my hands with one hand and both of our tumblers of bourbon with the other, and lets me lead us upstairs.
“Shower’s tiny,” I murmur as we walk through the primary bedroom to the small but efficient attached bathroom.
“That just means I get to touch you the whole time,” he says. He puts both of our glasses on the bathroom counter and we strip down together, clothes landing on the floor in a heap.
I reach over to turn on the water but don’t get in. “Takes a minute or two to warm up,” I explain.
“Shhh.” He presses his lips to mine. “I don’t care about the water—I just want to look at you.”
I don’t know why, but his hungry gaze on my naked body sends me into a heightened state of arousal. Normally, I’m a little self-conscious…do my breasts hang too low? Are my thighs too round? My ass too big? Logically, the answer is no, but guys always seem to have opinions.
Tate’s opinion is shrouded in cobalt-blue eyes that seem to be drinking me in. He slowly but surely lets his gaze drift up my body and when he gets to my face, he licks his lips.
“Fuck, you’re spectacular,” he whispers.
Warmth fills me and I move closer, trying not to stare at the myriad tattoos covering him. One arm has a full sleeve, but then the other shoulder is covered, along with something I can’t identify on his chest and what appears to be a line of music vertically on his thigh.
“What’s that?” I ask curiously, running my finger over the notes.
“It’s the opening intro to our first hit,” he says. “I wrote it and play that part live, and it’s part of the reason we went platinum, so I wanted to commemorate it. My mom says I’ll regret it but I don’t think I will. It was a huge accomplishment.”
“Never regret your success,” I whisper, lifting to my toes and pressing my lips to his.
Chapter 5
Tate
She’s fucking beautiful.
Large, round breasts with raspberry nipples that are screaming for me to suck on them. Small waist that curves into beautiful hips and shapely thighs. There’s a small patch of well-groomed curls between her legs, and her abdomen isn’t perfectly flat but it works on her glorious body. I’m already imagining all the things I want to do to her—with her—and I pause to take a swig of bourbon.
Then I fuse my lips to hers, letting the liquid move between us. She sucks on my tongue until we’ve swallowed every drop. I reach down, kneading the globes of her ass as we kiss, getting familiar with her body. And her. She likes when we touch. I can tell by the way she leans into me, presses her body closer, like she needs me as much as I need her.
“No condoms in the shower,” I whisper. “There’s plenty we can do without penetration.”
Her eyes find mine. “I like the sound of that.”
