Page 22 of One Night Flame

And when he kissed me back, I forgot everything else. The mess. The nerves. The worry. Kissing him became the only thing I could think about. The only thing I needed.

Cord kissed me like he’d been starving for it. Slow and thorough, as if every second was something to savor. And I kissed him back because I couldn’t not.

The world narrowed to the feel of his hands sliding down my arms, to where his fingers brushed my waist. Then he leaned back just enough to let his eyes sweep over me.

“Let me?” he asked, voice low, hand at the side of my dress.

I nodded, throat too tight for words.

His touch was unhurried, deliberate. He drew the zipper down with maddening care, the soft sound loud in the quiet room. My skin pebbled as the fabric slid down over my shoulders, then lower, pooling at my feet in a whisper of surrender.

He stepped back to look at me—really look.

“Jesus,” he breathed, one hand reaching out to trace the dip of my waist. “You’re…” He didn’t finish the sentence. Just shook his head slightly, like he couldn’t believe I was real.

I wrapped my arms around myself on instinct, but he caught my hands.

“Don’t do that,” he murmured, gently pulling them away. “Don’t hide from me.”

Something raw and fragile trembled in my chest. My body had been a lot of things these last few years—strong, tired, stretched, functional. It had fed a baby, carried groceries, chased a toddler through Target.

But right now? Right now, it felt wanted. Like it was allowed to be beautiful.

Cord bent and kissed the curve of my shoulder. Then lower. His palms slid up my sides, thumbs brushing the underside of my bra before he slowly—so slowly—eased the straps down. The bra joined the dress on the floor.

He cupped my breasts with both hands, his thumbs teasing over already tight nipples before he dipped his head and took one into his mouth.

I gasped, part surprise, part pleasure that landed low in my belly. His mouth was hot, his tongue deft and worshipful as he sucked and licked, switching sides with an indistinct sound of approval. My fingers found his shoulders, holding on, needing something to anchor me.

Breathless, shaking, and wanting—God, wanting—I let go of the last bit of hesitation.

Cord kissed a slow, aching path down my ribs, his mouth reverent, his hands steady as they explored every new inch of me. And then he went lower.

One of his hands slid down the curve of my hip, brushing my thigh before shifting inward. His fingers grazed between my legs, teasing, testing, and then circling where I was already aching.

I gasped.

“Still okay?” he murmured, his mouth close to my skin.

“God, yes.” The words slipped out unfiltered.

He smiled against the inside of my thigh—one of those cocky, devastating grins that made my stomach drop—and then his fingers stroked again, with purpose this time. Confident. Precise.

My hips jerked.

“Just like that,” he said softly, voice all silk and sin.

And then he did it again.

My breath caught. I gripped those broad shoulders, anchoring myself as heat bloomed and coiled deep in my belly. He watched me the whole time, like he wanted to memorize every flicker of my face.

I tried to hold it back—to draw it out, to stay composed—but I didn’t stand a chance.

The orgasm hit hard and fast, pleasure crashing through me in a wave so sharp and blinding, it felt like a dam breaking. My whole body shook. I cried out—high and desperate—then slapped a hand over my mouth, shocked at the sound I’d made.

Cord chuckled low, his fingers easing their rhythm but not pulling away just yet. He lifted his head to kiss the inside of my thigh. “That a yes so far?”

I could only nod, breath gone, bones jelly.

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