Page 57 of Fire
Okay, ever. My sex life has never been wild.
In fact, there was a time during my marriage when I seriously debated whether there was something wrong with me. Tanner and I never seemed to work together, and I was aware of his reputation. He had plenty of other satisfied women out there, so if it wasn’t good with me, it had to be my fault, right?
At some point, we just sort of gave up.
Oh god, what if Hendrix thinks I’m bad at it too?
My eyes dart over to him as I root around in a kitchen drawer for a bottle opener for the wine. Wine that I don’t even want. I just needed something to do when we got inside the apartment, so I opened my mouth and offered him wine.
Thank God my sister actually had some.
I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to have casual sex anymore. I’m not even sure I know how to have sex anymore. What if Tanner has broken me and I…
Hendrix’s hand closes over mine, stilling it. I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn’t even heard him step into the kitchen. But now he’s right behind me, his body pressed against mine.
My heart starts to race for an entirely different reason.
“Let’s forget the wine, yeah?”
I close the drawer as I silently nod and turn to face him.
I am of average height for a woman, but I feel incredibly short standing in front of him. He has to be at least six two or six three? And his eyes are such an intense blue. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, I can see the tiny flecks of gold scattered among all that indigo.
Beautiful. That’s what he is. Utterly beautiful.
And for the moment, all mine.
The revelation gives me a momentary surge of confidence, and I rise onto my tiptoes to gently press my lips against his.
There is nothing soft in the way he reacts. His hand slides around my waist, and suddenly, I find my ass on the cold marble countertop. He steps between my thighs, slants his mouth, and kisses me like he’s been waiting his whole damn life for the privilege.
He grips my hair in his hands, angling my head so he can lick and kiss his way down my neck and collarbone. By the time he reaches around to unzip my dress, my breath is ragged, and my thighs are slick. The straps slip off my shoulders, and the fabric pools around my waist. When he grabs the backsof my calves, I assume he wants me to stand so he can finish unzipping it, but instead, he just slides me to the edge of the counter.
“Spread your legs wide, Cupid. I like seeing you like this,” he says with a grin.
“Like what?”
His eyes wander over my lace bra and the red fabric of my dress pooled around my waist. “A little disheveled. A little wild.”
I have to admit, I do kind of like it too. And as soon as that thought takes root, I find myself saying, “Take off your shirt.”
I fight the blush creeping up my neck. I instantly start to worry I’ve been too bold. But the cocky grin that spreads across his face washes away all my doubt. “All right.”
He left his suit jacket in the car, and I watch as he slowly works each button. You’d think the white tank he has underneath would be a bummer, but it’s not. That thin fabric leaves little to the imagination, and I finally get my first look at the tattoos on his arms and the chiseled abs hiding underneath.
Dear god, is he auditioning for an action movie I’m unaware of? I’ve never been able to use the word rippling in real life until this moment, but that’s how I would describe his body.
The crisp white fabric flutters to the ground, landing in a heap on the tile, and then his eyes return to mine. My stomach flips.
“Anything else you want, Zara?”
I secretly love it when he calls me Cupid, but hearing my name on his lips, still slightly swollen from kissing me, is so incredibly hot.
The bravery from earlier has faded slightly, so I find myself giving a nod. He smirks, his hands ghosting up my thighs. “Don’t be shy now. Tell me what you want.”
I want to tell him to take the lead. To just do whateverhewants to do. But that’s what the old Zara would do. Or at least the version I became when I married Tanner. The version of me who stopped asking questions and pushing for answers. Who became complacent. Who stood on the sidelines rather than taking charge.
I do not want to be that person anymore.
