Page 135 of Holding On To Good

Wrapping one arm around her waist, he yanked her closer, closed his lips over the other nipple and sucked hard. She tipped her head back. Pressed her hips forward, seeking relief of the growing ache at her core. Rubbed against his thigh.

Oh, he was too good at this. Too skillful with his warm hands and clever mouth. They’d barely even started and she was arching against him like a cat in heat. Mewing with desire.

In danger of losing herself to him.

Setting her hands on his shoulders, she gave him a gentle but insistent push until he raised his head. The glazed look in his eyes, his harsh breathing, went a long way to soothing her frazzled nerves.

Reminded her yet again that she wasn’t in this alone.

“No?” he asked.

“No. I mean yes,” she corrected quickly. “I mean, we should go upstairs. To your room.”

Where there was a bed. Where they could keep the lights off and fall into each other. Where they could satiate their hunger for each other in the dark.

Urban shook his head, slid his hands back to her waist, this time slipping under the hem of her shirt to stroke against her skin. “Here,” he said, low and gruff. “Now.”

Here? Now? Where it was so bright? So open and homey? Where they’d spent so much time together, both alone and with his family, watching TV or playing board games? Where the kitchen was in full view, the table where she’d shared so many meals with him and his family there, right there?

“Urban…” she began but it was hard to concentrate, difficult to form words when he was drawing little circles along her waist with the rough pad of his thumb. “Your bed…”

He grinned, a heart-stopping, sexy, and—God help her—wolfish grin that went straight to her core. “I don’t need a bed. Not for the things I want to do to you.”

She swallowed. Well. Okay, then. That sounded interesting.

And like something she could definitely get on board with.

He moved in for another kiss but when his lips brushed hers, she leaned back, pressed gently against his chest.

“No one can see us,” he said.

Technically, they could, but they’d have to go to a lot of trouble to do so. His backyard was fenced and locked—the only reason she’d been able to get in was because she had the code. If someone did happen to approach the house, the motion lights would warn them. Plus, it was late. Not many people in Mount Laurel were traipsing around residential areas, skipping through other people’s backyards. Peeking in their windows.

She hoped.

But that wasn’t what really worried her.

“The lights…” she said.

He studied her which only proved her point about it being too bright in here. It made it way too easy for him to see her clearly.

With a nod, he slid his hands out from under her shirt, then took her hand and tugged her with him as he walked to the couch.

As if he didn’t want to let go of her. Not even for a moment.

He turned off the lamp to the right of the sofa then headed toward the one on the left and did the same. By the time they crossed the room to the floor lamp in the corner, she was skipping to keep up with him.

Someone was in a hurry.

She gave a breathless laugh. “I’m not going to change my mind, you know.”

She was smiling, filled with feminine power and no little amount of joy, when he whirled her around and pressed her back against the wall next to the armchair.

“I know,” he said, setting both hands on the wall on either side of her head, arms bent, biceps flexed.

They were a temptation, those hard, rounded muscles, and she gave in to it, laying her hands on them. Trailed her fingers along the smooth contours, absorbing the warmth of his skin. It was so new, the ability to touch him like this, to linger and caress, to learn the shape of him. A gift she’d been given. One she was extremely grateful for.

Then he stepped closer and kissed her. Stealing her breath. Hazing her thoughts.

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