Page 21 of Rematch
She was flying blind here.
Preston, once again, seemed to be in tune with her thoughts and feelings. “I know we just met, but can you trust me to take the lead on this?”
She blew out a long, slow breath. “I was hoping you would.”
“How adventurous are you feeling?”
His question should have sparked some concerns, but instead they felt more like a dare, a challenge, one she wanted to rise to.
“Refer back to my comment about getting out of a passionless relationship.” And then, before she knew what was happening, a flirty, fun side she’d never fully embraced emerged. “Bring it on,” she challenged, her tone pure sex kitten.
Preston reacted like a sprinter to the sound of a starting pistol. He cut the distance between them within seconds, his hands cupping her cheeks as he gave her a kiss a million times hotter than all the ones that came before.
This touch, this kiss, was one of utter possession. She was no stranger to romance novels, always drawn to the darker, steamier ones where the alpha hero claimed his woman. Clearly, she’d been seeking the passion that had been lacking between her and Rick through fiction.
Preston wasted no time taking what he wanted. His fingers brushed her sides as he lifted the hem of her sweater, removing it in one quick tug. He did the same with the T-shirt she wore beneath it, then her bra. The pile of clothes at their feet was growing. Unfortunately, it was all hers.
Preston reached out, squeezing her breasts, his gaze locked on her chest. She was tempted to use his sweater line on him, reminding him where her eyes were. But she didn’t because the way he was looking at her—like she was Christmas and the Fourth of July personified—filled her well in a way she needed oh-so badly.
He bent forward slightly, drawing the tip of his tongue over one nipple, then the other, in a touch that was too light to be much more than a tease.
She was tempted to grasp the back of his neck, the same way he’d done to her a couple of times tonight, forcing him to suck her nipples harder.
Preston lifted his head, giving her a knowing look that made her wonder if he could read minds.
“If we hadn’t just met, I’d tie you to that bed and play with those nipples for hours until you were begging me to fuck you.”
It was on the tip of her tongue to beg him to do just that.
Unfortunately, Preston spoke first. “But you don’t know me well enough for that. Bondage requires a much higher level of trust. So I’ll have to find other ways to make you beg.”
Her pussy clenched tighter, and her panties grew even damper. She’d never wanted Rick like this, her arousal off the charts.
However, one thing kept playing over and over in her head on repeat.
One night with Preston would never be enough.
Preston licked her nipples again, but this time, he punctuated that tender stroke with a much firmer pinch, his thumb and forefinger tightening until she cried out in pain and desire.
“God,” she breathed, as he continued to play with her breasts, every touch, taste, bite, pinch, and suck making her dizzy with need. And then, she did indeed beg. “Please. Preston, please.”
Finally, after several years passed, he lifted his head. She expected to see a self-satisfied smirk. Instead, she was met with a mirror image of her own face—one lined with a yearning that bordered on painful.
“I want you. Now.” Chelsea started to divest Preston of his sweater as well, but he pushed her hands away.
“Might go faster if I do it.” He’d pulled the stocking off and left it in the car. Now, he unwound the Christmas lights. “I wrapped them around me after I put the sweater on and I’m not sure I can get the thing off until they’re gone.”
“I love how you used shipping tape. Very classy.” She couldn’t help but make the same joke she’d made at the party, enjoying their easygoing, teasing banter.
He tugged the lights off, the slight ripping of the tape he’d used to hold them to the sweater, filling the room. “You don’t want to see me try to thread a needle.”
Finally free, he dropped the twinkle lights to the floor, then pulled the sweater over his head with one hand. Unlike her, he hadn’t worn anything underneath.
Chelsea moved without thought, her hands sliding over his smooth skin. There was a light smattering of hair around his nipples and before she could consider her actions, her lips were there, offering his tight brown nipples the same sensual torture he’d given her.
Preston’s hands closed in her hair, the firm grip causing her scalp to sting. This was her first taste of hair pulling, so she was shocked by the reverberations it sent through her body, drawing a throbbing line along her spine from her scalp to her pussy.
Overwhelmed by sensation, she sank her teeth into Preston’s pec. He grunted, then growled.
