Page 81 of Meet Me at Midnight

“Yeah,” I whisper back.

Thisisa much, much better option. I don’t know what I’d do if we ever went back to the way things were.

There’s something sexy and dangerous and exhilarating being out on Beau’s boat—just the two of us—with only the night’s sky hovering above us. After I managed to chug two bottles of water and neutralize the booze in my body, we’ve been sitting here, at the bow, for the past two hours.

Maybe longer. I can’t be sure. All I know is that kissing Beau is an aphrodisiac that has my nipples hard, and a deep, Beau-craving ache makes itself at home between the apex of my thighs.

I’ve always enjoyed kissing, but I’ve neverfeltkissing like this. Never been so entranced by kissing a man that I find myself completely unaware of time, my surroundings, pretty much everything but him. Frankly, the only reason I still know we’re on his boat is the gentle rocking motion that occurs each time a wave laps against the sides.

Beau sits with his back against the boat, and I straddle his hips. My mouth tastes and teases and kisses his, and his big, strong hands touch my thighs and my hips and my hair and pretty much every part of my body as we just kiss each other.

He deepens the kiss as his fingers skim the skin at my hip. His lips move from my mouth to my collarbone, skirting along the delicate spot with the kind of softness that urges goose bumps to appear on my skin.

I sink my hands into his hair and moan at the feel of him on me. I’ve fantasized and dreamed and envisioned for years and years, and still, the real thing is ten times better. I’m still not used to the satisfaction of truly feeling him, and I’m starting to wonder if I ever will.

I could have Beau for breakfast, lunch, dinner, three snacks, and a midnight fourth meal, and I’d still be hungry for more.

Right now, he’s gentle and connected, his every move, every touch, every kiss, intentional in a way that sends energy all the way to my toes. His touch is commanding, and yet, I feel at the helm at the same time. My responses are a road map as he learns my body and all the simple touches that make me tick.

I sure wish he’d been with me all this time, but I have to appreciate the benefits of him being a man with experience.

“God, Beau,” I whisper, gasping lightly as he nips at the lace of my bra.

The breeze of the water blows through my hair as his boat travels at a mild clip, heading slowly through completely open waters, but it’s no match for the raging fire inside my body.

His hands on my skin, his mouth on my skin,it’s everything.

“Feel good?” he asks. I answer with a swift intake of breath as he pulls my nipple into his mouth and sucks.

“Incredible.” A moan escapes my throat when he shifts me on his hips a little, and I can feel how hard he is beneath his clothes. “I want you so bad,” I manage through ragged desperation.

He kisses the skin of my chest, up along my neck, and ends with his lips at my ear. “Right here?”

“Yes,” I agree readily. “Right here. Rightnow.”

“Out in the open like this?”

“I don’t care.” Truth is, it almost sounds exciting that someone might see. I don’t know what woman is having these thoughts because she sure as hell doesn’t sound like me, but I don’t question her. I want Beau, and I want him now.

Beau finishes pulling my dress down from where it rests at the bottom of my breasts, and I lift my hips to help him get it off. My nipples stand at attention in the cool wind, and my core absolutely rages in contrast, but when he covers me with his body and presses his lips to mine, all that leaves my mind completely.

His fingers find the line of my panties and slide underneath, sinking into the wetness at my center and swirling.

“Fuck,” I curse on an exhale, digging my hands into his shoulders and arching my back.

His touch is gentle as he explores, dancing around my clit until I can’t stand the feeling anymore.

I writhe under him, and he smirks down at me, his brown eyes positively twinkling. “Feel good?”

“More,” I shamelessly beg. “Please.”

He moves his finger again, sinking it inside all the way to the knuckle. “Is that enough?”

I shake my head. “More. I need more.”

Moving another finger in to join the first, he rubs at my G-spot with expert strokes. My head falls back on a moan, and I paw at his chest, willing him to be even closer.

The material of his white shirt is nice and all, but I want skin.

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