It’s Complicated (Her Billionaires #5)(42)
Author: Julia Kent

She really could have watched him all day.

He had other ideas.

I will always catch you. Did he really just say that? She shivered with arousal, gooseflesh taking over her exposed arms, chest, and br**sts, her ni**les tightening. Before she could continue her mind’s inner chatter, Alex had crossed the room like a lion leading a pride, his nearly nude body pulling her onto her patchwork quilt that covered the bed. The comfort of worn cotton invited her to stay awhile, the hot press of his chest against hers a sensation she could bathe in forever.

His kiss was slow and seeking, with a barely restrained urgency that made her back arch, br**sts pressing into his bare pecs. So much flesh touching. Quite different from their first rushed moments. The completeness of it made her skin tickle, and the heat that emanated from their entwined bodies seemed to pool between her legs. A shift of his h*ps and his hard c**k pressed into that heat, the frustration of two thin swaths of cloth enough to make her gasp.

The song ended, and an Etta James croon came on, enough to make him smile through a kiss. Alex propped his head, elbow on the bed, and looked at her with delight, taking his sweet time to survey her body. Immodest, she reveled in it, flouting all the chick-magazine-y rules on how to behave in bed with a man.

“Behave” wasn’t in her vocabulary right now.

“Obey”, however…might be, depending on what Alex had in mind…

He was exquisite, and her hands took the liberty of running over his chest, down to his waist, where a sharp inhale told her what he wanted. No rush, right? As he dipped his head to watch her hand memorize each pore, every skin cell, that led her to what she really wanted to touch, he gripped her wrist and forced her to pause, his knuckles pressing into the soft flesh of her belly, inches above where she really wanted him to touch.

“No rush,” he said, letting go, then sliding his palm along her hip. The slow journey up the curve of her waist to the edge of her breast, then to her shoulder, was like a long lick up an ice cream cone in August. She was, like the ice cream cone, dripping.

And then he rolled her onto her back, eyes taking her in. “Beautiful,” he whispered as his mouth took one budded nipple and rolled it between his tongue and lower lip, the ache for completion driving her to arch up into him, begging him wordlessly for more. His calves brushed against her thigh as he changed position and angled his mouth at a better degree, spare hand sliding not down, but up to her jawline. This would be slow, wouldn’t it? Could she make love at the speed of Alex? It was a physics formula that jumbled into a potpourri of letters and words as his lips brushed a line across the valley of her br**sts to give equal attention to both, as if the symmetry mattered.

What was he thinking, taking all the time in the world to explore her, the newness of him as foreign and exotic to her as she must be to him? Was this really about “sex parts”? If so, this would be enough. The chase was over. She was firmly caught. An all-body hum began the slow build inside her as his mouth now turned south, blood rushing to her ears and clit.

Peeling her panties from her hips, he took the time to caress her legs as his nimble fingers dispensed with the thin wisp of cloth, throwing it somewhere in the general direction of her vanity. Now the symmetry was broken, for she was bare. Time to make things even again.

“Fair is fair,” she murmured as her hands slipped under the waistband of his boxer briefs, sliding them down to his feet with a deftness that belied her normally clumsy nature. Both fully nude, they paused, taking each other in. Neither was self-conscious. The mutual appreciation made her laugh, a low, throaty sound that sounded far too bold and sophisticated even for her.

“You see something that makes you laugh?” he asked, one eyebrow cocked as he looked down at their naked, interwoven bodies.

Really? He made it so easy to wisecrack, to hide. Fifteen different sarcastic retorts fought against her lips. Taking the harder path, she just smiled and said, “I don’t know why I’m laughing. It’s just…”

“Joy,” he said simply, brushing a lock of her hair off her cheek.

“Joy? What is this ‘joy’ of which you speak?” she joked. Except she wasn’t joking. Joy? What was that? Who talked like this? Happiness—sure. Contentment—okay. Pleasure—no problem.

Joy?

“It’s a feeling,” he whispered, moving down to her navel, his tongue slowly tracing circles around her belly button, making joy pour out of her body in the form of muscle spasms that needed him inside her to grip against.

“Oh, I’m feeling,” she gasped, fingers reaching for his hair, working hard to fight against the tidal wave that splashed against her V. The last of the daylight flirted with the horizon, little touches teasing the clouds. Cooler night air wafted in the windows, making the room perfect.

“I want you to feel joy, Josie. And this, too.” Closing her eyes, she knew what came next, the unhurried movement of her legs sliding apart on the coverlet, how her ass filled his hands, his forearms under her, the rush of his warm mouth on her clit, the slowness speeding up so suddenly, the world cracking at the edges and turning from a sphere to a relief map, all laid out on her skin for Alex to explore.

Joy? Oh, yes. Heart swelling in tandem with her sex, she took in his shoulders, lifting up to meet the gift of his tongue. The way his hands had touched her earlier, every time, had told her he enjoyed women.

His tongue confirmed it. As he explored her body’s joy and desire through his mouth on her hot clit, stroking and tuning her to a new frequency, she faced a layer of intensity that she’d never experienced before with a man. The accumulated moments before this one all a nuanced tapestry in her mind and flesh, the knowledge that Alex liked her, that he wanted her, that someone so steady and hot and focused and real could be in her bed right now, na**d under her palms, laving and giving without pretense—knowing it was more erotic than his actual touch.

And then there was his body. Opening her eyes, she allowed herself to see what he was doing to her, to watch rippling muscles in his arms as he took care of her first. Panting, her breath coming in little gasps, she felt the wave push into and out of her at once, h*ps bucking, as if the thought of what this meant for her and Alex was enough to take her into orgasm.

More than this, though, she wanted him above her, in her, driving home the connection and surrounding her with his scent, his heat, his light, and the sound of his own pleasure when it mingled with hers.

Her hands clawed at the bedsheets, pulling them from the corners and twisting as her body twisted, too, Alex coming up to kiss her with such certainty, her taste on him and now in her own mouth, his mouth so soft, hands on her br**sts. Suddenly aware of how little she had focused on him, she moved past her own pulsing pleasure and reached down to stroke him, finding him hard and ready.