Page 112 of Swept for Forever
But Dom was the kind of man who would make it good. He would kiss your thigh and ask if you were okay, even when you were already moaning yes. I trusted he wouldn’t do anything that’d leave me bedridden and bow-legged for days.
Still, my stomach fluttered. I was about to dive with no net.
I kept unpacking, my fingers brushing over the black lace lingerie set he’d seen me in. I’d bought it on impulse after an episode ofEmily in Paris. Or maybe it was a moment of hope. It was not lace, since that was too itchy. And not satin either. Too slippery. It was something in between. It had worked on him once, and I was counting on it again tonight.
I stared at it for a beat before staring at my reflection in the mirror.
“Do it now,” I whispered. “Don’t do it.” I tossed a sock on the bed. “Do it now.” Another sock.
Screw it.
I took a quick shower in the guest bathroom, my heart pounding so hard that it could’ve rattled the pipes. After drying off, I slipped into the lingerie and brushed my hair until it gave the illusion of effortless, like I hadn’t just spent ten minutes trying way too hard for this.
Then I stepped back into Dom’s room and sank onto the plush rug.
I didn’t lie down right away. I tested the spot first. Then I stretched out face down, my cheek pressed against softness, my legs curled just enough to hint at the show I was putting on. My body was humming. A little scared. A little high. And a lot ready.
The shower water cut off.
I smiled to myself.
This was it.
Let the man come out and find me.
30
AUTUMN
Dom finally stepped out, steam curling behind him. The towel sat low, daring me to strip it away. But I stayed exactly as I was, on my stomach with one knee bent and my hips tilted just enough. A pose I’d practiced more times than I’d admit.
He kneeled beside me, and his eyes drank me in. “You waiting for someone?”
I licked my lips. “Only you.”
“How am I supposed to survive this?”
I reached up and ran a single finger along the edge of his towel. “Maybe you’re not.”
He smiled, his breath shaky. Then I tugged.
The towel dropped.
I turned so I lay on my side. He crouched next to me but didn’t join me on the rug.
“Dom?”
I guided him down, and finally, his body lowered beside mine. Our knees brushed, then our thighs. His skin still carried the heat from the shower, his damp hair curling slightly at the edges. I cupped his jaw and kissed him again,longer this time. The kind of kiss that saidwe’re doing this,but also,we’ll remember every second.
His palm skimmed the outside of my thigh, then higher. Every part of me burned where he touched. When his hand slid beneath my bra, cupping me fully, I arched into him. Every inch of him moved through me.
“I want to know every sound you make,” he murmured.
“I hear a virgin makes a lot of them,” I whispered back as his thumb rolled over my nipple. “Think you can handle it?”
“I might not survive you. But I’ll survive your voice, Otter.”
Then he moved and drew me into his mouth one breast at a time. He kissed through the lace, his tongue chasing the skin like that was where the sweetness lived. My back bowed, and my nails dug into the rug. The pressure of him against me was divine torture.
