Page 70 of Rooster

The intimacy of his touch makes me ache, a need rising up that I'd gladly feed right in the middle of this kitchen if he even so much as hinted that it's the same thing he wants.

The kiss ends long before I want it to, but his eyes stay locked on my mouth for long seconds.

I'm thoroughly seduced, ready to give him anything he asks for. From the way his growing erection is pressing against my lower belly, I get the sense that he'd just as easily give in to those carnal urges if I pressed the issue.

Instead of taking a step back, he presses against me harder, my hips circling with an urgency I feel bone-deep.

"Robert," I whisper, wanting and needing more.

He responds by dropping his mouth to mine once more, the softness in his touch on my face transitioning until he has most of my hair in his hand at the base of my skull. His grip tightens, giving him the power to tilt my head back exactly how he wants it. There's just something about relinquishing that power to him that makes me squirm in his embrace.

His mouth is magic, his lips against mine, something I never knew I needed until I experienced it.

This second kiss ends much too soon, just as the first one did, and my eyes stay locked on his damp lips. I fight a moan when his tongue sneaks out and traces the lower curve of his mouth. I want those lips tracing, exploring, and memorizing every inch of my body, and then I want to give the same in return.

"We were interrupted yesterday," he whispers, the warmth of his breath coated with the sweetness of the coffee he's already drank this morning.

"We were," I quickly agree, my hands on his hips, clinching his t-shirt.

"I wish I would've asked you to stay," he confesses, his body still pressed to mine.

I'm so very aware of every inch of him, and it takes more strength than I feel like I have to keep from reaching down much the same way I did yesterday and running my hand along the length of his erection.

But I follow his lead, keeping my hands on his hips because he's making no move to lift my dress and sink his fingers inside of me, although that's exactly what my body is craving right now.

"What would've happened if I stayed?" I ask, pulling my eyes from his lips and lifting them to his gaze.

His smile is slow, more of a seduction than I've gotten from fully naked men in the past, and it forces another wave of cold chills up my spine. His eyes hold so many promises, and it's almost enough to make me skip work so I can spend the day in his arms, living out every fantasy I never knew to ask for with this man.

A niggle of frustration grows inside of me when his smile continues without further explanation. My mind is wild with scenarios, and I know that him just speaking them out loud would rile me up enough to get me on my back, but I don't think that's his ultimate plan. He's simply living in this moment with me, not purposely leaving me frustrated and a little annoyed. I have to remind myself that he's unlike any other man I've come in contact with. He's not the type to make promises he won't later bring to life.

"Maybe a do-over?" I suggest, once again, rolling my body against his, not as a tease but because I just can't seem to help myself.

"It left my hair greasy and stains on my clothes," he says, his smile wide, eyes sparkling as if he has yet to entirely toss the idea.

"We can do it without the oil," I offer. "We can just pick up where we left off. I'm slick enough for the both of us."

His groan with my confession bounces around the room, giving me the bravery I've been searching for since walking into the room.

I release his shirt, running my hand down the front of his abs, all the while doing my best not to whimper at the feel of his muscles under my fingertips.

As if choreographed and rehearsed for weeks, he stops my hand just as my touch brushes the top of his pajama pants. I don't miss the way my fingers trail over the top of his erection before he stops me.

"This is not the place for that," he says, but his voice is husky and filled with as much need as I feel.

"We can go back to your room."

"We can't."

"My room then," I offer with a coy smile.

His laughter swirls around us as his head tilts back, eyes pointing at the ceiling.

"I want you so badly," I confess, wondering if it sounds as desperate to his ears as it does my own.

"And I want you," he says, his chin curling downward as he locks his eyes on mine. "Soon."

The one-word promise makes me want to stomp my feet and throw a tantrum like a toddler not getting her way. I fight the urge, but barely.

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