Page 85 of Relationship Goals

Me.Just me.

“Why are you shaking your tits like that?” he asks, clearly confused.

“It’s my mating dance,” I tell him very seriously. “This is part of it.” I shimmy again, this time doing a head pop thing I learned in a tapclass for actors. “I didn’t get to do it this morning, so I have to do it now.”

He barks a laugh, and I grin at him.

“You are fucking absurd, and I love it.” With that, his finger edges under my string bottoms, and I grin up at him, pulling at the string on the side until they simply untie and slide down my leg.

“Whee,” I squeal, kicking them all the way off with a little jazz-hand razzle-dazzle.

He’s not laughing though, nope. Luke Wolfe is staring at me like he wants to devour me whole.

Nervousness floods me, and I let out a little laugh. “Was that not the kind of striptease you’re used to?”

“You are the most stunning woman I’ve ever seen in my life.” There’s a feral growl to his voice, and in the next moment, he’s lifting me up, his hands palming my naked ass. His mouth meets mine, and my nervousness disappears, the jittery feeling that gripped me replaced by molten heat running through my veins.

I wrap my legs around his waist, and this time, when I tug my hands at the hem of his shirt, he obliges, pulling it off.

As soon as I’ve got him naked, I pull away, breathing hard, my bare pussy slick with moisture and pressed against the bulge in his pants.

“You are a work of art,” I tell him, breathless and needy. I run my hands down his delicious abs, loving the light fluff of curly black hair scattered across his chest, tracing the tattoo on his side.

When he does an approximation of a shimmy, I let out a delighted laugh.

“Did that do the trick?” he asks with a lopsided grin. “Do you accept my mating dance? Second time around is for the mating dance, right?”

“Yes,” I say sincerely, nodding. “Very much yes.”

“Good to know,” he says, growling against my ear. He nibbles down my neck, and I squirm against him, needing more, needing it now.

Suddenly, there’s nothing funny about this at all, and all I can think about is how much I want his hands on me.

“Bed. Now,” I say, arching against him as he kisses the sensitive spot under my ear.

“Fuck,” he groans, and the next thing I know, he’s carrying me out of the bathroom. He tosses me onto his bed, and I sink into the soft duvet, my bikini top hanging on by a literal string.

“I could stare at you like that forever.”

“Take your pants off,” I tell him. “I want more than staring.”

“Because of the mating dance.” His blue eyes sparkle with humor as he nods wisely.

“Because of the mating dance,” I agree, laughing a bit.

It’s different now, the hot need of this morning replaced by this easy back-and-forth, like we broke through any nerves we might have and now we can just be us, completely ourselves.

My heart’s so full it hurts.

He grabs one ankle, kissing it, then my calf, then the ticklish underside of my knee. I squeal a little, giggling at the sensation. “I’d like to show you the rest of the mating dance,” he says. “I hear it has a really excellent finishing scene.”

“I’d love to finish,” I manage, still laughing a little.

“That’s what I fucking wanted to hear,” he says, his mouth on my inner thigh. One blunt finger strokes across the edge of my pussy, and I arch off the bed. “Just how I fucking knew you’d be. So wet and perfect.”

His fingertip slides through my slickness, and he hisses in pleasure at it.

I buck my hips, a wordless whine on my lips, my body ratcheting tight and loose all at once as he finds my clit, making gentle, delicious light circles around it.

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