Page 84 of The Close-Up
“Well, damn.” He knocks back the rest of his wine and sets the empty glass on the side table. “Here’s a bit of truth from me too, then: I’m insanely attracted to you, Naomi. I always have been. And that night, I would have given my right arm to keep kissing you.”
Something inside of me ignites. It’s like all of my organs, my blood, and my bones are on fire with passion. Screw work, screw boundaries, screw everything that isn’t us.
And so I set my glass down on the side table and grab Simon’s deliciously stubbled face in both of my hands, look at him, and say, “You can kiss me again. If you want.”
That whispered request is all it takes. Simon’s mouth is on mine in a hot second. But instead of the desperate kiss I expect, he’s softer. Sweeter. Almost tentative. It’s just his lips slowly moving against mine, not even the hint of tongue yet, and it makes every hair on my body stand on end in delicious, glorious anticipation.
When he slips his tongue against mine a second later, a tiny, imaginary bolt of lightning strikes between us. It’s so powerful, so arresting that my shoulders jump. Then I sink back into the kiss, following Simon’s slow, steady rhythm. I hum in satisfaction.
He breaks our kiss and grins at me. “Did I make you laugh?”
I shake my head. “No. It’s just... I can’t believe we’re finally making out. After all this time. We both wanted to and I guess we just talked ourselves out of it in our minds.”
“I have a bone to pick with my brain for sure. Later, though.”
I’m mid-chuckle when Simon wraps his massive hands around my wrists, slowly pulling my hands away from his face and guiding them against his chest instead. I fall into his mouth just as he captures me in another kiss, only this time he’s firmer, like he urgently needs me inside of his mouth.
With each tease of his tongue, I’m moaning. Simon kisses like a demon. I always knew he was good with his mouth. There are endless online videos that serve as proof of that. But I always wondered just how good he is at something as simple as a kiss. Yes, he’s stellar at administering mind-blowing oral pleasure. But twenty-something me always fixated on the kiss. Because as much as it rocks to have a guy who’s dynamite in the sack, I’ve always thought it was just as important that the same guy could make you swoon with a kiss. Even though sex is indisputably fun, nothing teases like a kiss. You can kiss almost anywhere—at home, in public, in the car. You’re not limited by space or public decency laws. You can put your mouths together almost anywhere. A guy who can make you weak in the knees with three seconds of his mouth on yours is worth his weight in gold.
And Simon is a one-hundred-foot solid-gold monument based on the magic he can work with his mouth.
It’s only a few minutes until our kisses devolve into something filthy and rabid. I’m straddling his lap, tugging at the buttons of his shirt, when he gently pulls away.
He gazes at me, flushed, his thick hair deliciously disheveled. It’s his turn to hold my face in his hands when he speaks. “What do you want me to do to you, Naomi?”
I wonder just how honest I should allow myself to be right now.
“What doyouwant?” I ask, instead of giving him a straight answer.
“Literally anything as long as it’s with you.”
If college me were to answer this question, it would be real simple. I’d want Simon’s mouth between my legs until I come, then I’d want him to rail me until he comes.
But that’s a wildly unsophisticated answer.
“You can be honest with me, Naomi,” Simon says when I say nothing for the next few seconds. “You telling me what you want would be the hottest thing in the world.”
“Really?”
“One thousand percent.”
“Okay.” I huff out a sigh, sending my nerves retreating back to where they belong. “I want your mouth here.” I press the palm of my hand between my legs, which is still shrouded with the robe. “And then I want to use your dick to get off. If that’s okay.”
I have to clear my throat when I finish speaking, I’m so nervous. But then the smuggest smile crawls across Simon’s face. “Gladly.”
He maneuvers slightly and I think he’s going to switch spots so I can lie down on the bed. I move to stand in front of him and he holds me still with both hands on my hips, gazing up at me. Then he runs his fingers along the thick, fuzzy belt of my robe. My heart pounds at the movement. My breathing is a mess too. I have to press my lips together to keep from panting too hard.
His stare fixes on the belt of my robe. It’s such a focused look. Almost like he’s studying it or trying to memorize it. When he finally unties it, he slides his hands along my bare waist, parting the robe along with it.
“Goddamn, Naomi,” Simon says, his eyes now on my midsection.
This is the first time I’ve heard him swear in a while and I’m giddy with pride. Simon is not someone to curse frivolously. I must bring something out in him.
I let the thought tumble through my head while I soak in the craziness of this moment—that I’m about to get down and dirty with Simon, my friend, work colleague, and college me’s biggest fantasy. Before I can let the thought drive me crazy with anticipation, he distracts me with his mouth once more. This time it’s endless light kisses across my stomach.
It’s as innocent as a kiss could possibly get—closed-mouth and above the waist—but it’s winding me up tighter and tighter with each passing second. I run both my hands through his mass of perfect honey-brown hair while trying to keep steady on my feet and keep my gasps under control. I never knew stomach kisses could be such dynamite foreplay.
Just then my eyes fly open with a very important thought. “Oh! I’m clean!”
