Page 28 of You Had Me at Chocolate

“Definitely the latter.” There were, no doubt, many reasons why a night together wasn’t wise but the fact that Clementine was after a little oblivion and she’d asked him was enough for now.

They’d figure the rest out later.

“Do people really think librarians are virginal prudes?”

“Some do. But for the record, I’m not a virgin and I’ve never fainted at the sight of a dick.”

Jude laughed, tempted to say something like that’s because you haven’t seen mine yet but not succumbing. “Well, for the record, some people are idiots.”

She grinned at him, a stray curl falling forward and, before he knew what he was doing, he was reaching for it, pulling on it, watching as it sprang back. It fell across her eye and Jude brushed it away, his fingers trailing down her cheek, to her jaw, to her mouth, her smile fading as her lips parted.

His fingers fell away, his breath roughening and falling in sync with hers as the air crackled around them like a high school chemistry set gone rogue. Jude wanted to kiss her so badly his lips tingled and his entire body trembled with the urge. He swallowed trying to remember if he’d ever felt this nervous about kissing a woman and came up empty.

Not even his first time.

But there was a lot riding on this kiss. If it was bad it could get very awkward around here, very quickly. If their lips met and it was an absolute fizzer—he felt nothing, she felt nothing—where did that leave them?

Somehow, though, he knew it wouldn’t be bad.

With his heart hammering like gunshots, he leaned in, inching closer. There was probably not quite two feet separating their mouths but Jude eked out the distance, making it last as long as he could, giving her time to back the hell out if she suddenly came to her senses.

But she didn’t and so there was nothing else for it than to give her what she wanted. What he wanted. His mouth touched down on hers, the lightest of touches before he withdrew a little to let that brief cataclysmic brushing of lips compute before he went back for more because, fuck, he wanted to go back for more.

“Is that it?” she whispered.

Her warm breath fanned his face, a small smile playing on her mouth.

“No,” he whispered back, his hand cupping her jaw as he pressed his mouth to hers again.

And he didn’t pull away this time because, holy shit, he was kissing Clementine Jones and her mouth was soft and sweet and she was sighing and leaning in, opening her lips to his gentle exploration, following his lead as his mouth brushed unhurriedly against hers.

His head was urging him to go faster and harder and deeper, as was the pulse washing through his ears and drumming through his chest, but he held it all in check. This wasn’t that kind of situation. It wasn’t a wham, bam, thank you ma’am. It wasn’t some wild teenage groping in the dark. There was a lot at stake between them—their friendship—which made it risky. This needed a slow hand, an easy touch.

And he had every intention of savoring it, despite the rampant state of his erection and the burn of fever in his blood.

There was citrus in her hair and cinnamon on her skin and she tasted sweet and salty like his caramel popcorn and she filled up his senses with her flavors and Jude couldn’t get enough. He wanted to discover all her flavors.

His tongue slid out, swiping along her bottom lip, searching for traces of salt and caramel and she moaned. The kind of moan that came from a place not quite civilized. Like she’d had no control over it. And it reached right inside his underwear and squeezed. So he did it again, to her top lip, sucking on it gently this time, savoring its plumpness for long heady seconds before he dipped into her mouth, his tongue slowly exploring.

But not for long, her mouth suddenly breaking away. His muddled mind tried to identify what was wrong but then Clementine was shifting, rising up, her right leg sliding over his thighs, her knee grounding on the other side. He moved too, shifting instinctively back to accommodate her straddle, his hips and shoulders pressed against the soft fabric of the couch, his hands sliding to the backs of her pajama-clad thighs.

His head against the rest, he looked up into her face, their gazes meshing. The fire cast an orange halo around her curls which had fallen forward, contributing to the shadows darkening her face. For two people that had just indulged in the world’s slowest kiss they were seriously out of breath.

“How was that?” he asked, his voice low and husky.

“Good.” She smiled. “Really good.”

Then, sliding her hands on either side of his face, she kissed him. It was still slow and easy, but it was deeper, her mouth opening, her tongue exploring, stroking against his until he was panting and his hands were tightening on the backs of her thighs. And when she lowered herself against him, settling into his lap, his dick reacted predictably, his hardening girth pressing against the soft fabric at the crotch of her pajamas and he groaned, his hands moving to her ass and holding tight.

She pulled away, sitting back a little, her head level with his now, her hands falling from his face. Her chest rose and fell with a gratifying unevenness. She repeated his question back at him, her voice a low, sexy vibrato. “How was that?”

He gave a ragged laugh. “Really, really good.”

Grinning, she rose to her knees again, reaching for the hem of her shirt and hauling it over her head. There was a brief flash of pearly pink fabric and two full satin-and-lace cups before they, too, were gone and he was staring at the generous sway of her breasts.

He swallowed—hard. “You grew into your chest, too.”

She laughed as she settled her ass back down. “I did.”

---