Page 71 of Love Deep
He laughs. “You know, I thought the same about New York when I went back. It’s exactly the same as it was when I left.” Our eyes lock, and instantly I’m weak for him. I don’t know how a man managed to go from perfect stranger to making me weak just looking at me in a few short weeks. But Fisher’s managed it. “Kiss me,” he says.
I slide down from his arms, take his face in my hands, and stand on tiptoes. “There’s nothing I want to do more.”
He presses his lips to mine and my entire body buzzes, like it’s being woken from a deep sleep. He pulls me against him so there’s no space between my body and his.
He’s hard, and the thought that he wants me makes my knees weaken. Makes my heart weaken.
He pulls back. “You okay?”
He must feel how much I’ve missed him. I’m not okay that he’s been gone but I’m better now that he’s here.
I shake my head. “Come inside and… come inside me.”
He groans. “Juniper. I don’t want to wake Riley and?—”
I place a finger over his lips. “She’s at my parents’ for the night. My mom just messaged to ask me if it was okay.”
“I really like your mom,” he says, stepping so close to me, sweeping his lips over mine.
“Let’s go inside,” I say. As much as I loved it down by the falls, I want to see him in my bed.
He scoops me up and takes me inside.
“I don’t even know where you sleep,” he says.
“The door next to Riley’s.”
He kicks my bedroom door open and puts me down softly on my feet. His fingers go straight to the buttons of my blouse.
“I’ve been thinking about this for so long,” Fisher whispers, pressing a kiss between my breasts. He pushes my shirt off my shoulders and kneels at my feet, unbuttoning my jeans and lifting each leg to take them off. He presses a kiss just above my knee, and I shiver. When he sweeps his hands down my thighs, my back arches. He’s barely touched me and all my nerve endings are standing to attention, waiting for what’s next, wanting more but knowing more will be too much.
He hooks his thumbs into the sides of my underwear and pulls them down. He groans at the sight of my bare pussy—like it’s the most erotic thing he’s ever seen. Fisher being turned on by me makes me feel like a goddess. If I can turn on a man like Fisher, anything is possible. My nipples stand to attention, scraping the lace of my bra and desperate for his touch.
He places kisses over my lower belly, from one hip to the other, teasing me, making me wait. It’s delicious torture. I push my hands through his hair, needing to feel him, wanting more of him.
He pulls away and maneuvers me so I’m lying on my back on the bed, my ass on the edge of the mattress.
“I’ve dreamed about this. Two nights in New York and all I’ve thought about is how you taste.”
I sigh. Could that even be true? Is it possible that he’s thought of me as often as I’ve thought about him? I’ve been counting down the hours until he was back here. It’s terrifying to think how it’s going to feel when he’s gone for good. I don’t know how I’ll cope.
But I can’t think about that now.
Fisher’s tongue slides down my folds. He flicks and presses, circles and coaxes me into a frenzy.
I can’t take any more but I never want it to stop. I never want to stop feeling this.
Wetness pools between my thighs, and if I wasn’t so worked up, I’d be embarrassed about how responsive my body is to him. But there’s no room in my brain for embarrassment. There’s too much else in my body to feel. And it’s all pleasure.
All of a sudden, his fingers slide over my breasts as his tongue works my clit, and I arch my back.
“Fisher!” I scream.
He stills, and I feel the loss of his tongue. “You know the rule,” he growls. “No coming without my permission.”
The tone of his voice is almost enough to push me over the edge. Fisher is such an affable, easygoing guy. But in bed?
In bed, he’s in charge.
