Page 31 of Just Friends

He leaned back on the couch shifting toward her and smiled. “Well, I do, if you haven’t noticed.”

Rebecca shook her head. “I don’t mind stubble.” The gas logs created a very realistic looking fire; it danced around in a spellbinding rhythm. Weasel was close enough to run her hands over his chest and explore with her fingertips how those muscles rippled—if she allowed herself. He wouldn’t stop her.

“Noted.”

In her periphery, his eyes were on her; he urged her to look at him. She couldn’t. Not yet. It’d give too much away. She’d stopped breathing.

His hand reached up the back of her neck and gentlyplayed with the curls. “Tell me,” his tone low and husky. “Did you think about our kiss?” His voice and caress were doing something to her resolve. It was melting. The need for someone to touch, hold, and kiss her just one night raced through her. She could do that. One time is what he offered her.

She placed a hand to his chest and shifted to face him. “Yeah,” she said. If the move or the admission surprised him, he didn’t let on. “I thought about it, a lot.” She ran her hand down his shirt and up the inside over the ridges of his tight abdominals and up his bare chest. He’d been after her for months. Why shouldn’t she? His eyes, usually light gray, were dark and heated.

“Did it help you remember…” he said; she cut him off pressing her lips to his mouth. Not about to reveal that she remembered every moment of New Year’s Eve, the dancing, his arms around her, and that incredible kiss that left her craving more, wanting him.

He remained still for a beat before his hands went into her hair, tilting her head, taking control. His tongue grazed her top lip, and she allowed him to deepen the kiss. He tasted of wine, so she added hers to the mix, and her hands ran several passes over his shoulders, biceps, and under the shirt again. The blanket disappeared, an arm wrapped and encircled her waist as he pulled her to him; lifting her into his lap, straddling him. Her hands threaded into his hair, and his lips traveled kisses to her ear which he greeted with a nibble. He continued the trail down her neck then returned to her mouth while his hands made rounds inside her shirt. She seized his bottom lip between her teeth and bit him; an appreciative rumble came from his throat Then, she kissed the spot she bit. His mouth covered hers, again, and he shifted. He was hard, everywhere. With one hand firmly grasping her boob and the other hand on her butt, he maneuvered her right where there was no doubt what he offered. A moan escaped her, and it spurred him on. “Once,” she whispered. “We’re doing this once.” He pushed against her again, and another moan was swallowed by his kiss.

Both of them broke apart for air, gasping to catch a breath. “Need to slow down,” Weasel said inching her back onto his legs and off the erection, he’d been pushing against her. But, when he removed his hands, she slid down and rocked against him. He sucked in a gasp and moved her backward. “Careful now.” She giggled, and he shook his head. “You know what they say about paybacks,” he smirked.

“What about them?” she replied, her voice breathless. She tried to slide down on him again, but this time thwarted by his hand between them; brushed where she’d planned to put him. Her breath caught in her chest. “Fine…”

His fingers kept moving, and she ceased thinking. Already near the edge, he took her almost over but stopped short; she groaned. “Payback.”

His mouth was too busy wandering for a reply.

“Damn,” he murmured, raising her shirt, his lips brushing her bare breast. “Tell me what you want; I’ll do it.” She had to admit that this was fun, and she hadn’t expected being in charge of the situation with such an alpha male. He wanted to please her. Although, there was something she couldn’t let him forget.

“Hey,” she said.

“Yeah,” he brought his head out from under the shirt, dropping it into place. His breath ragged. “Are we stopping?”

“You forgot something.”

“To tell you you’re the most beautiful woman ever.” He wound a cluster of curls around his finger.

“No.” She leaned forward and bit his earlobe while she wiggled against the bulge in his shorts making him gasp. “It’s time for you to give me that field sobriety test.”

His head fell back; he groaned. “Fuck.”

“If you want to, I have to pass,” she grinned.

“You’re not even drunk.”

Giving him her best wide-eyed look of innocence. “But you said…”

“I know what I said,” he interrupted. Weasel smiled as he shook his head. “You’re having fun with this, aren’t you?”

“So,” she shrugged, “how about it, officer?”

He lifted her off his lap. “Walk in a straight line, heel to toe, eight steps across the room. Then turn and walk another eight steps heel to toe back.”

Rebecca stepped in between the couch and the coffee table toward the bedroom. She walked as instructed until almost there. Then reaching for the hem of the shirt, she pulled it off, dropped it behind her, and went on into his room. She made it about four strides before he picked her up off the ground and tossed her onto the bed. He came down on top of her, lips and hands already wandering her body. She reached for his shirt. “You need to match me,” she said.

A wicked grin crossed his face. He stood, stripping off the shirt, and in another fluid motion, his bottoms disappeared too. And he was commando. There he towered over her, butt naked—his sinewy frame, taut, and ready.

“You have to match me,” his voice husky, and her yoga pants gone in one smooth move. But he left her pink, cotton bikini briefs on. Before tonight, the mere thought of being stretched out wearing her delicates in front of a man was embarrassing. The open desire in his eyes caused her to feel sexy. He wanted every square inch of her.

His mouth trailed kisses down her torso, and she moaned. “We don’t quite match.”

His lips curled into a smile against her. “Oh, we’ll get there,” he whispered. “These are just too pretty…” He continued meandering down her hip.

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