Page 18 of Four on the Floor: A Menage Romance

Larkin glances at me quickly, taking everything in one more time.

“Iasked,” I say, moving closer to her. “If you got what you wanted.”

She swallows hard, her eyes flicking to my lips. We’re not more than six inches apart right now, and I can read on her face how much she wants me.

“Not yet,” she finally whispers.

I close the distance and kiss her, my mouth capturing hers. She’s soft and warm, instantly yielding. I fight to control myself, because it’s like a wild beast is rearing up inside me: hot and needy, desperate to tear her clothes off and take her without a second thought.

I don’t. Instead I slide my hand down to her hip and pull us together, and Larkin makes a soft noise when I do, half gasp and half moan. I’m positive she can feel how hard I am, but she moves her hips forward against me, and it only makes me harder.

Then her hand is on my shoulder, her knee on my thigh as we’re lying side-by-side, the fire behind me. I find the small of her back with my hand and pull her into me as she bites my lip, her fingers digging trenches in my bare shoulder.

I pull back, grab her ass, move my hand down her thigh, heft her leg over my side.

“Is this more like what you wanted?” I ask, my voice teasing and husky.

“I should—”

I don’t let her finish the sentence because I’m kissing her again, hungry for her perfect, plush lips, loving the feel of her skin on mine, her hands all over me.

Before I know it I’m on top of her, her legs wrapped around me, our mouths still crushed together. I grind against her, nothing but a few layers of thin fabric separating us as my tongue slips into her mouth and hers meets it. Now she’s got one hand in my hair, holding my face to hers, the other grabbing hard at my bare back.

“You should what?” I breathe.

I put my weight on one arm and hook my fingers around the strap of her tank top, pulling it down her shoulder. She’s still breathing hard, her blue eyes dancing.

“Ishouldgo back to my room and readThe Hobbit,” she says, but there’s a smile ticking up the corners of her mouth.

I kiss her again, tug at her tank top, revealing one perfect, rosy nipple.

“But?” I say, lowering my mouth to nibble at it.

“But this is good too,” she murmurs.

I don’t answer, just flick my tongue across the warm, pebbled surface and listen to her gasp in response.

Suddenly, there are footsteps and she freezes, her whole body going rigid. I jerk back, already tense, to see what the threat is.

Slate’s standing in the doorway, just behind the couch, looking half surprised and half amused. The three of us stare at each other for a split second before Slate breaks the silence.

“Sorry,” he says, a smile tugging at his lips. “Didn’t realize it was you two, I thought an animal had gotten in or something.”

Before I can say anything, he’s gone again, slipped into the dark. I look back down at Larkin, who just blinks at me in surprise.

“That was Slate,” I say, hoisting her legs around me again. “Don’t worry, he’s fine.”

But she shakes her head, unfurls her legs, tugs up the strap of her tank top.

“I gotta go,” she says, sliding out from under me.

“Larkin,” I say, sitting back and taking her hand.

“I’m sorry,” she says, her breathing still quick, her nipples still hard pebbles beneath her tank top. “I got carried away, I shouldn’t…”

She stands, glancing around.

“I shouldn’t do this,” she says, grabs her book, and then she’s gone.

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