Page 58 of That One Heartbreak

He closed the dishwasher and reached for her, his palm curling around her hip, his other hand cupping her face. And then his mouth was on hers, like he’d been aching for this all night.

She knew she had.

Kate tipped her head up, feeling the soft, sure pressure of his lips. The gentle slide of his tongue. The way his body felt so hard against hers. In every way. She curled her arms around his neck, pushing herself against him.

This man was undoing her in every way. Her thighs clenched with need for him.

When he pulled back his eyes were hazy. “Outside?” he rasped.

She nodded. “Outside.”

This time he grabbed her hand, pulling her through the kitchen door into the cool evening air.

But instead of taking her to their favorite Adirondack chair, he turned her until her back was against the wall. As though he couldn’t wait any longer to touch her. To kiss her.

To make her feel like her world was shifting.

Her heart was pounding as he slid his hand down her side, his fingers dipping beneath her t-shirt. “This okay?”

“Yes,” she breathed. She craved his touch. And when his hand slid up her stomach, to her bra-clad breasts, she let out a little cry into his mouth.

He rolled her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, forcing a low groan from her lips. She had to steady herself against him, her hand on his waist. The thick ridge of him waspressed against her stomach. She arched against it, wanting to know just how needy he was for her.

Oh yeah, he was super needy. She liked that too much.

His lips slid to her jaw, then her neck. Then he suddenly dropped to his knees in front of her, both hands on her hips. His face pressed against her t-shirt-covered stomach.

“I just need to kiss your skin,” he told her, his voice thick. “Just for a minute.”

“Yes please.” She stroked his hair. It was so soft against her palm. He nudged the fabric up, his mouth hot against her belly. She wondered if he could see her silvery stretch marks in the moonlight. If he could feel the indentation of them against his mouth.

Maybe she should care. Be worried about that. But it was difficult to think properly about anything when this man was on his knees for her. Worshipping her.

He kissed her hip, her stomach, her belly button. Then he pushed her t-shirt higher up, kissing his way to her ribcage before sliding his lips along the edge of her bra. Every touch of his mouth felt like fire. She scraped her fingernails against his scalp, whispering his name.

And then he closed his mouth around her nipple, through the lace of her bra, and her knees started to buckle.

Pulses of pleasure were making her thighs tight and her body slick. He sucked at her nipple again, his teeth scraping against her. “So fucking beautiful,” he muttered.

Despite the cooling night air, her face was heated, her body on fire. He slid his hand down, cupping her, his mouth still hovering where she needed him the most.

“Are you wet?”

“What do you think?” she said, grinning.

He looked up, his eyes catching hers. She jolted at the connection. What was happening here?

“Let me make you come.”

“Here?” Her heart hammered against her chest.

He nodded. “Right here. Right now. Let me make you feel good. Please.”

“With my clothes on?”

“I wasn’t about to strip you naked in your backyard.” He lifted a brow. “Yet.”

“Okay,” she breathed. Every cell in her body danced with delight at her answer. And he gave her the sweetest, sexiest grin she was sure she’d ever seen. He stood, his mouth capturing hers again. God, she could never get tired of kissing this man. Feeling his big, hard body against hers was fast becoming her favorite thing.

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