Page 81 of Beautiful Thing

Standing this close, my erection bumps against the inside of her thigh and her eyes flutter shut. “I want to touch you, Layla.”

“Touch me,” she whines, her breasts heaving forward when she arches her back. “Please.”

She looks like a real-life goddess. I’m not even sure I deserve the gift she’s offering me. This gorgeous, supple body, all for me?

“Where?” I rasp out. “Tell me where I can touch you, Belle.”

She stutters a breath. “Anywhere.Everywhere. Please.”

I gently brush her hair away from her collarbone, pushing the luscious strands over her back. I draw my lips along the curve of her neck, allowing my beard to lightly graze her skin. I’m ready to claim her completely.

But she stops me with a gentle hand on my chest. “Wait.”

I ease back immediately, needing the space to explore her expression.

There’s a tender look in her eyes when she cups my cheek with her free hand. “You kissed me tonight, Archer. Before we go further, I need to know what that means.”

Fuck. She won’t let me run away from this topic, will she? She never lets me run away.

I search my mind, trying to find a non-idiotic way to confess that I have no idea what I’m doing here. All I know is, I want her, even though I shouldn’t. I’ve never felt this conflicted. I usually take a position and stand on it, but when it comes to Layla…

“The kiss, Archer…It was just for the crowd, right? It was so your parents wouldn’t ask questions? So people wouldn’t get suspicious about us?” Her eyes bounce between mine. Searching. Waiting.

“Yes. That kiss at the hockey game was for the crowd,” I concede. “It would have been suspicious if I’d refused to kiss you on the big screens.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, the spark inside her dies and her big brown eyes go cold.

Clearly disappointed, her fingers fall from her pussy. But I quickly scoop up her hand. I greedily suck her sticky fingers clean. Then I softly pucker my lips against her delicate knuckles.

“But this kiss?” I gently graze my lips along hers, my entire body prickling with excitement. “This kiss is forme.”

And I lean down, capturing her surprised gasp with my mouth.

Layla responds by throwing her arms around my neck as my biceps lock her in a tight embrace. Our naked bodies press together, my slick pecs crushed against her warm breasts. The heat we generate together evaporates the water right off my skin. It burns up all the oxygen in the air.

Here in the quiet privacy of my bathroom, I kiss her the way I wanted to kiss her at that hockey game. The way I wanted to kiss her at my birthday party. The way I’ve wanted to kiss her every single day of the past who-knows-how-many years.

I get drunk, kissing her with years of pent up sexual tension.I completely give up on holding back and I pour my everything into this kiss.

When I’m done ravaging her mouth, I tear my lips away from hers, just so I can drag bruising kisses along her jaw and down her neck and across her collarbone. Then my mouth is covering one breast and my tongue is swirling and slurping at her nipple.

She moans for me, arching against me, wordlessly asking for more. Nose buried in my hair, Layla cries out, grating her fingernails through my scalp and down my back.

My hand slithers between her thighs and, with my middle finger, I gather her juices. Then I paint her other nipple with the wetness.

“Oh, my god, Archer.” Her head falls sideways against the mirror and her thighs tighten around my hips. She rocks her pussy against my erection. My cock grows so hard, I’m afraid I’ll pop a vein.

Groaning, I switch to her other breast, sucking off her flavor and nearly losing my damn mind. “Fuck…Yes, Layla,” I grind out when her warm hand closes around my shaft. “So good…Your hand feels so good on me.” I pant. “And you taste so good. And…and…”

Realizing I sound like a blabbering fool, I bite down on my lip and just focus on rocking my pelvis, pumping into her firm grip.

I kiss my way down her body, dragging my tongue and nipping at her flesh with my teeth. Then I’m on my knees, draping her legs over my shoulders and placing kisses along her skin.

“Archer, oh. You don’t have to do…that,” she tells me, like she’s doing me some sort of favor. She tries to swing her legs off my shoulders, but I grip her thighs, holding her in place.

“What do you mean, I don’t have to dothat?” I stare up at her. She’s a queen on her throne, gazing down at me with doubtful eyes.

She tries to mash her thighs together. “My ex didn’t like doing it. He said it was…messy. And he didn’t like the…taste.” Her face is violently red with embarrassment.

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