Page 82 of Accidentally Amy

I rubbed my lips together, trying to think of the right words to say, but he cut me off with a kiss. His lips came down, somehow different—yet again—than every other time we’d kissed.

Blake Phillips apparently had an entire dossier of kisses at his disposal and dispensed them with the utmost care. So far I’d had sweet, sexy, and hot, but this one was dirty. Filthy. I’d thought the Billboard Assholes kiss was a sex kiss, but no.

Thiswas a sex kiss.

His mouth was just as hot and hungry, but it had the patience that went along with having all night. It felt like foreplay and tantric marathon sex, all at once, and I stopped thinkingand held on for dear life. I brought my arms up and around him, letting my fingers flex into the muscles of his back, needing to bring him closer.

He made a noise deep in his chest—a growl or a groan—as our bodies came together. I could feel every inch of him—chest, stomach, thighs—and I bit down on his bottom lip, instantly impatient for everything his body had to offer.

That was apparently the green light he needed, because it wason. His greedy mouth moved lower, licking down the column of my throat in a way that had me pressing and straining to feel more. My arms fell to the bed when his mouth moved south, because it was worshipful and with the kind of enthusiasm that made me feel like a centerfold, as opposed to the B cup I actually was.

“You,” I said, digging my fingers into his hair, “are delightfully obsessed with my mi—”

“No.” He delivered a nip of punishment that made me squeal, a squeal that turned into a pornographic moan as his mouth continued the onslaught that was making me wild. How was he so good at that? He only got better as he moved down my body, ridding me of the last scrap of my clothing, kissing every bit of me and making me writhe, tremble, gasp, and scream.

And it wasn’t just that he was skilled at the tasks he was performing or the way I was fairly certain I had an extraordinary hickey on my hip bone. No, it was that everything he did, every move he made—it felt like all of it was exclusive to us in this moment.

None of these things had ever been done before, not like this.

It was magic that existed only for us and this wildly perfect connection.

His fingers slid over my skin, and I felt them where he touched, but I also felt his fingers in the depths of my chest, the racing of my heart, and the heat of my cheeks.

When he kissed my belly, I felt the heat of his mouth on my flesh, and also in the pit of my stomach.

And, God help me, when he finally came back to me and our eyes met, his gaze was so full of adoration that I felt it in the backs of my eyes.

Yes, when this man looked at me, I wanted tocrybecause I was so into him.

Blake swallowed, opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and I realized that I was waiting for a profession of love. His flared nostrils and flushed cheeks made him look like a man ready to spit sonnets, and I felt like I couldn’t bear the disappointment of what he wasn’t going to say.

So I grabbed his face and brought it to mine—hard—and tried showing him how I felt by kissing the ever-loving shit out of him, swallowing down the stupid tears that for some reason were really close to the surface.

He sucked in a breath and went even harder, kissing me like a storm, surrounding me with passion that was inescapable and wild, where shelter was nowhere to be found.

I wasn’t sure I was going to make it.

I let go of his jaw, slid my hands down the front of his body, and touched him.Finally.He hissed my name and froze, tension hardening every muscle in that big body. He ground out the words “Holy. Hell. Yes. Iz.Fuck.”

His hands left me long enough to open a drawer and rip into a wrapper, and in a matter of seconds, he was inside my body. Isqueezed my eyes shut and felt all of him, so incredibly good and right and full and hot that I was overwhelmed.

But then he said my name.

“Iz.”

I opened my eyes, and he was watching me, looking like every wicked fantasy I’d ever had about him.

I swallowed and said, “Hi.”

That made him smile, the sweetest, most affectionate little grin, and he said, “I fucking love you.”

My chest burned, my ears buzzed, and I wanted to freeze that moment forever.

But then Blake started moving, dominating my body with that sexpertise of his, and I lost the ability to think. I wrapped my arms around him and held on tight as he made me burn. I might’ve blacked out at one point, and I definitely forgot how to form words for a solid ten seconds, but I never wanted it to end.

Nothing in my life had ever felt quite that exquisite.

Well, until fifteen minutes later, when Blake wrapped his body around mine, pulled the heavy comforter over us, kissed the top of my head, and turned out the light.

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