Page 254 of Boots, Bucket Lists & Bad Ideas
I grip the back of her neck. “It was fucking amazing,” I breathe out in a husky rasp. “You’re amazing.” My tone is gentle this time.
Her lips glisten, and she nibbles at the traces of honey left there, giving honey a whole new meaning.
She catches me staring. “You want to lick the honey off my lips again, don’t you?”
If a growl is an answer, then I answer loud and clear.
Her finger slides down her lip, dripping a trail of the gooey stuff I swore I’d never go near again. My mouth all but attacks hers. Our tongues tangle, our breaths intertwine. My hands move, mapping the contours of her body, her waist, her hips, and her back.
Tasting her, claiming her, it’s this primal need to make her feel every ounce of the desire I’ve been holding back.
“My turn,” she rasps against my mouth. “If you trust me.”
My heart pounds, but I nod.
She sits back on my lap, her gaze not leaving mine. This time, she drips the honey on my wrist. I suck in a breath between my teeth.
She hesitates, her eyes flicking from my wrist and back to me. This moment is different than last time. It’s not a performance, not a pretext, but a shared vulnerability.
She brings my wrist to her mouth, her hooded eyes watching me. Her tongue darts over her lips before her warm, rough tongue drags over my wrist.
My dick thrums.
How the fuck does one little lick send my body into this erotic mode? I want to flip her on her back and sink into her wet, waiting heat.
But I don’t.
I can’t move a fucking muscle. And honey is involved.
She laps the honey in steady strokes. Each lick is greedy, leaving a cool trail.
When she finishes, she licks her lips. “How was that?”
“Fucking incredible.”
“You didn’t mind the honey?”
I shake my head, realizing it’s the truth.
“Have you ever played hide and seek?”
“When I was ten.” My voice rumbles with amusement.
She smiles, eyes sparkling with a challenge as she dips her finger back in the honey.
I don’t even question the anticipation riding through me.
Her teeth clamp her lower lip as her hand disappears beneath the lower hem of her shirt.
My gaze dips down the opening at the top of the oversized T-shirt, transfixed on her honey-coated finger, after momentarily being distracted by the top of her smooth breasts. It’s the kind of smooth that invites your hand and mouth to slide across.
She glides the honey along her skin, tracing the valley between her breasts.
My insides light on fire.
My mouth waters.
My cock jerks.
