Page 12 of A Love That Broke Us
“Damn it,” I mutter, breaking our kiss. My head hangs in frustration as I force myself to pull away. I groan, reluctantly sitting up and reaching for my phone. “I’m sorry, I have to get this.”
She sits up next to me, her hand falling to my thigh, and I glance at her apologetically as I answer the call.
I go through the motions, saying all the right things, but my focus is shot. Her hand starts to move, tracing slow circles on my thigh, and it’s killing me. She’s not even trying to hide that she’s messing with me—her smile small, but wicked. My cock aches, and my thoughts are anywhere but this call.
God, she’s going to be the death of me.
I end the call, and she’s on my lap before I can even set my phone down, her lips crashing into mine. I meet her kiss with a renewed sense of urgency as her hips grind against me, sending a jolt of heat through my body. My hands find the hem of her shirt, sliding it up, her arms lift instinctively, helping me pull it over her head.
I pause for just a moment, my eyes roaming over her, taking in what’s been hidden underneath her clothes for the past month.
Damn. She’s hot.
My mouth is on hers again before I can even think, my hands finding her waist and pulling her even closer.
“You’re fucking sexy, Alley,” I murmur, my lips brushing hers as I speak.
She grins against my mouth, her hands sneaking under my shirt, her fingers drifting over my stomach. “So are you.”
I chuckle, my voice low. “You haven’t even seen me yet.”
“I don’t need to,” she says as her hands move higher. “I like you enough to know I’ll like what’s underneath.”
The way she says it—those innocent words—I don’t know if words have ever turned me on more.
Her hands scramble to pull my shirt off, and I let her. She leans back, her eyes wandering over me, taking her time. I’m in shape—I work out, run, play basketball—but I’m no gym rat. I don’t have a six-pack or rippling muscles, but I’m lean, tall, and have an athletic build.
A soft smile forms on her lips as her hands trail up and over my chest, her fingertips sending sparks of desire shooting through me. Leaning in, she whispers in my ear, “I like what I see.” Her tongue flicks against the shell of my ear, and a shiver runs down my spine as my thumb brushes over her nipple through the thin fabric of her bra.
She presses kisses along my jaw, working her way back to my lips. Her tongue sweeps across them, and I open for her, letting her in. The taste of her lips, the warmth of her body, the way she’s grinding against my cock—it’s completely consuming, and I lose myself in her.
My phone rings again.
I groan, louder this time, frustration dripping from every sound as my hand grips my hair. “Fuck.”
I reach for my phone again, answering it with an effort to mask how pissed off and distracted I am.
Alley’s hands don’t make it any easier. Her fingers stroke my chest and abdomen, her eyes locking with mine, a fire burning in them that matches the tension coursing through my body. My cock throbs against her, and I already know this call is going to be time-consuming. Resigned, I gesture toward my laptop, and she slides off my lap.
I try to focus, nodding along to the call while she moves around the room. After five minutes, she slips her shirt back on, and I nearly groan again. She leans back against the couch, running a hand through her hair, fully clothed now, but somehow she looks no less tempting.
Another five minutes crawl by, and I glance at her, mouthing an apologetic, “I’m sorry.”
She shakes her head, mouthing back, “It’s fine,” before standing and making her way to the kitchen. She starts rummaging through my cupboards, finally pulling out a glass and filling it with water. Anache tugs at my chest as I watch her. I like seeing her wander through my things, making herself at home.
The call drags on for another ten minutes, and by the time I end it, Alley’s purse is slung over her shoulder, and she’s lingering near the door, looking ready to leave.
I stride to the kitchen, meeting her halfway. My hands find her hips, her fingers brushing against my bare chest. I lower my head, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’m sorry that took so long,” I murmur.
“Don’t worry about it. I’m sorry I interrupted your workday.” Her arms slide around my back, and she presses a soft kiss to my chest. “I just wanted a reason to see you.”
“I’m glad you interrupted my workday… Now, where were we?” I lean in, capturing her lips in a kiss. She kisses me back—until she pulls away.
“Jensen,” she says softly, her fingers tracing along my shoulders. “I’m going to go, let you get back to work. But thanks for letting me stop by. I had a lot of fun.”
“You don’t have to go. I don’twantyou to go.”
“I know… but you’re working, and I have things I need to do. Besides, I don’t want our first time to be interrupted by phone calls.” Her gaze locks with mine. “When we have sex, I want you all to myself.”
