Page 35 of Slow Kind of Love

Chapter Twelve

The hottest thing Link Major had ever seen in his nearly thirty-two years, was Elise Avery walking into his house wearing black knee high, come-fuck-me-boots underneath simple wool coat. When she walked past him and dropped the coat, it took everything in Link not to grab her up like Tarzan, pound his hands across his chest and lay her across the kitchen table and so he could strip her naked.

If the situation were different and this wasn’t Elise, but some random hookup like so many that littered his past, he probably would done just that. Had her naked within minutes, screwed her in to tomorrow, then sent her on her way and gone to bed a satisfied man. He wasn’t a selfish bloke mind—he would have bloody well made sure she’d had a good time—but those women served a purpose that didn’t last past the act of having sex.

This was different. The stakes were higher because she mattered.

Elise turned slightly and glanced over her shoulder, a siren if he ever saw one, and it took a hell of a lot of effort for Link to hang back. He leaned against the wall and shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans. It was that or put them on Elise. And though it killed him to keep some distance, he wasn’t ready for that yet. The sexual tension was thick and he knew if he stretched things out it would only make the sex hotter.

“How about a drink?” he asked, running his eyes from the top of her head all the way to her toes.

If Elise was surprised he hadn’t pounced she didn’t show it. A slow smile curved her bottom lip and she slowly shook her head. “I think I had enough last night. But thanks.”

“Right.” He raised an eyebrow. “Chocolate covered strawberries?”

“I’m good.”

“Potato chips? I’ve got your favorite.”

“Barbecue?”

“That’s the one.”

“Nah.” She angled her head to the side and gave a small shrug. “I’ve had my share of carbs today.”

Link nodded to the kitchen. “Mind if grab a whiskey?” He had a bottle of Jameson’s in the cupboard.

“Go ahead.”

Link poured himself two generous fingers and tossed in some ice, then headed back to the living room where Elise was perched on the arm of the sofa, legs slightly spread, hair tumbling down her shoulders in a golden, wavy sheen. Her breasts were barely covered by the sexiest skimpy blue bra he’d ever seen, and the matching panties left nothing to the imagination.

He settled himself against the wall once more and drank her in. There was something about this kind of foreplay that sweetened the pot like nothing else. They weren’t touching. There was space between them. And yet, eyes and words and tone could do so much. It took strength to let that anticipation build, but man, the reward was well worth it.

He took a sip from his glass and heat rushed through his veins when she slowly traced her fingers down her chest. He watched those crimson painted tips circle her nipples until they hardened like pebbles.

“Good whiskey?” Her voice was like smoke over lava. Hot and raspy.

“It is.”

“Jack Daniel’s?”

He shook his head. “I’m more of an Irish man when it comes to whiskey. Jameson’s Reserve.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever had Irish before.”

“Well, luv,” he said, pushing off from the wall. “We should do something about that.” Link walked across the room and stood in front of her, loving the lines of her body as she gazed up at him. Her skin was flushed pink and she smelled sweet, like sunshine and honey. Link took another drink from his glass. He let the whiskey settle in his mouth and then as it burned down his throat he lowered his head and lightly swept his mouth across hers. Elise opened beneath him and he slipped his tongue inside, sliding it across hers as he deepened the whiskey soaked kiss.

When he came up for air, her mouth bruised from his, he damn near lost his shit. “You are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know about that,” she replied, “but you make me feel like I am.”

He kissed her again, moving closer, then eased himself between her legs and slowly moved to his knees. He kissed Elise until she made a noise that told him she was headed to that place he was only too eager to help her get to. He sank back onto his haunches, and set down his whiskey glass beside him.

“Lift your hips,” he ordered, smiling wickedly when she did so. Carefully he hooked his fingers into her panties and lowered them down her thighs and over her boots.

“Take off your bra.”

Again, she complied, her eyes dark and glittery as she undid the clasp and tossed her bra in the general direction of her panties.

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