Page 35 of Last Minute Fiancé

I hadn’t bothered with the pillow fort, but it would be fine. We were adults. We could do this.

The shower went off and I thought about how he was naked in there, probably rubbing himself down with a towel, and it wasn’t any of my business. He wasn’t any of my business.

When he came out in his boxers and a T-shirt, I quickly closed my eyes and pretended I didn’t see him. That I couldn’t feel the heat of him as he slid into the sheets beside me.

When he shut off the lamp without another word, all I could hear were our breaths and, based on the rapid breathing, realized that neither one of us was calm.

Then his pinky touched mine and I shivered.

“Luca.”

It was just a simple touch, a caress of pinky to pinky. And it was so much.

My clit pulsed, and I wanted to press my thighs together, to will myself not to come at just a simple touch.

This had been bubbling up for far too long. The need. The change.

But maybe I was just losing my mind.

Maybe it was the hormones. The lack of sleep. The stress. Maybe it was everything except what I was feeling.

“Addison,” he whispered, and then his fingers were sliding up my arm, and I turned to him and opened my eyes.

“Luca.”

“Let me kiss you.”

We knew that this was a mistake and I didn’t care. Because his hands were in my hair and his mouth was on mine.

He tasted of mint and smelled like the same soap I had all over my skin.

I wanted him. I needed him.

It started as just a simple touch, a caress, and then it was far too much.

His hands slid under my tank top, over my hips and my ribs, and I shivered when his thumb brushed the underside of my breast. I licked at his tongue and bit down gently on his lip as he slid his thumb over my nipple.

“You feel so fucking good.”

“I was going to say the same about you,” I whispered against his lips as I moved my hands up and down his body, and then under his shirt. His skin was so hot, still damp from the shower.

And I wanted to lick every inch of him.

We kept exploring each other, kissing, touching, and when he cupped my breasts under my shirt, I groaned, arching into him.

“Your nipples are so sensitive.”

“More so than before,” I whispered.

He kissed me again and we didn’t talk about anything important or why I was so sensitive. I was on my back and he was tugging off my shirt. I did the same to him, and I was grateful for the moonlight sliding through the blinds, because I could just see the light on his skin, barely glowing, and he was so beautiful.

He kept kissing me, before he lowered his body down further, kissing along my jaw and in between my breasts. He suckled one nipple, then the other, pressing them together as he continued to kiss and touch. I just let my hands fall over him, needing to touch him, needing to tug on his hair. He kept exploring. And when he kissed his way down my stomach and began to pull off my pants, I let him.

I hadn’t bothered with underwear and he groaned, tossing the pants over his shoulder, before he was cradled between my thighs, gently leaving small kisses on the inner silk of my skin.

“Luca.”

“Let me taste you. Let me take care of you.”

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