This Man (Page 73)

Bollocks! I reach up to cup his stubbled cheek in my hand, and his eyes jump to mine, his lips parted ever so slightly. He stops brushing and turns his face into my palm, kissing it tenderly. Yep, I love him. Oh God, what am I going to do?

‘Spit.’ he says quietly against my hand.

I drop my hand from his face and lean over the sink to rid my mouth of toothpaste before returning to face him. Running his thumb across my lip, he collects some stray paste and slides his thumb in his mouth to clean off what he’s swept up.

‘Thank you.’ I utter through my cracked voice.

The corner of his mouth cocks into a half smile. ‘It’s just as much for my benefit as it is for yours.’ He smiles, leaning in and kissing me soft and slow on the lips, his tongue sweeping through my mouth tenderly. I sag on a sigh. ‘You’re rubbish at hangovers. Is there anything I can do to make it better?’ He pulls me off of the unit, so I’m stood before him, and reaches around to clinch my bum, effectively holding me up.

‘Have you got a gun?’ I ask him seriously. That would cure my pounding head.

He laughs a proper belly laugh. ‘That bad, huh?’

‘Yes, why is it so funny?’

‘It’s not, I’m sorry.’ He straightens his face and runs his middle finger down the side of my cheek. ‘I’m going to make it all better now.’

Oh? Alcohol, quite clearly, has not killed off my libido because every dehydrated nerve ending has just sprung to life. I must look hideous, and he’s getting all fresh with me? We’re not on even ground here. He’s fierce and God damn delectable in his morning roguishness, smelling all musky, mixed with fresh water. I, on the other hand, have a hangover from Hell and must resemble something like a scarecrow, but he doesn’t seem to be bothered.

He reaches around my back, unclasps my bra and removes it before leaning down and giving each one of my ni**les a quick peck. They harden instantly under the brief contact from his lips, my br**sts becoming heavy burdens on my chest. My body has been completely distracted from the after affects of alcohol and is now buzzing all over in anticipation of his touch.

As his head raises and his lips find mine, my hands slide up his arms and delve into his soft, blonde mass of hair. Oh God I’ve missed this. It’s only been four days, but I’ve missed it so much, it frightens me.

‘You’re addictive,’ he breathes against my mouth. ‘We’re going to make friends properly now.’

‘Are we not friends?’ I ask. My voice is breathy and desperate.

‘Not properly, but we will be soon, baby.’

A wave of tremors fly through me as he kisses my nose gently and drops to his knees in front of me, spanning my hips with his big palms, hooking his thumbs into the top of my knickers.

I tense and wait, but he makes no attempt to remove them. I look down at him and watch him kneeling there, his forehead resting on my stomach, as I weave my fingers through his dark blonde hair. We remain like that for an eternity, trapped in our own little dream state, just me watching him as he rolls his forehead across my tummy, back and forth.

He eventually takes a deep breath and leans in, placing his lips below my bellybutton and letting them linger there for a few seconds before slowly dragging my knickers down my legs. He taps my ankle – a wordless instruction to lift – and repeats the same on my other foot.

I look down at him knelt before me, his head lowered, and I know something’s playing on his mind. I tug on his hair to snap him out of his daydream, and he turns his face up to me, his eyes meeting mine. His frown line is heavy on his forehead as he reaches up, spreads his palms on my backside and dips his head, kissing my stomach again. He’s behaving peculiarly.

‘What’s wrong?’ I can’t keep my concern to myself any longer.

He looks up at me and smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. ‘Nothing.’ he says unconvincingly. ‘Nothing’s wrong.’

No sooner am I preparing to challenge him, his face is buried in the apex of my thighs and my legs have buckled.

‘Ohhhhh!’ My head flies back and my grip on his hair tightens. In one foul lick, he has me lock stock, and the niggling urge to press him is forgotten.

He moves his grip to my hips, causing me to jerk wildly. He’s the only thing holding me up. I feel his hot, skillful tongue circle my hypersensitive nub of nerves, rounding with slow, precise movements before delving deep into my core. There is not a single bit of me he’s not exploring.

‘I need a shower,’ I complain.

‘I need you,’ he mumbles against me.

I’m sent into a melting mess as he increases the pressure, digging his fingers into my hips. I grind against his mouth, it’s only a matter of seconds before I’m falling to pieces, the surging pressure crashing down into my groin having me holding my breath, with my heart jumping into my throat.

‘You taste incredible. Tell me when you’re close.’

‘I’m close!’ I gasp on a long rush of breath. Holy shit, I’m close!

‘Someone’s keen this morning.’ A hand is removed for my hip and two fingers plunge into me, sending me into orbit.

‘Oh, shit!’ I shout. ‘Please!’ I must be ripping his hair out.

‘Watch…your…fucking…mouth.’ he scorns me, between powerful, even strokes. He can’t tell me off for swearing during these moments. It’s his fault for putting me through this.

He stretches my opening with his fingers, circling and thrusting, while working my clit with his thumb and lapping at my sensitive lips with his tongue. It’s a torturous pleasure that I could endure forever, if it wasn’t for the increasing pressure weighing down on me, demanding release.