“Just tonight. Why? You didn’t unpack?”
Did anyone unpack when they were away for just one night? “Let’s get a drink,” I said.
“Okay,” she replied. “To be honest, I’m a little nervous.” It was sweet that she was. Maybe all that preparation was done to distract her from her nerves.
“Don’t be,” I said, pulling out some water from the mini bar.
“Oh, I thought you meant booze-drink.”
“You need to be hydrated.” I twisted off the cap of the first bottle and handed it to her.
“For what?” she asked, taking a sip.
“For tonight.” I took a swig of my own bottle before pulling out my wallet and extracting three condoms. I put them and the water bottle on the bedside table—all essentials in place.
She chuckled—it was half laugh, half panic. “Three? You’re ambitious.” She shifted from foot to foot, her gaze flitting from the condoms to me and then back again.
“Come here,” I said, lifting my chin.
She looked behind her, almost as if checking I was really talking to her and not some other woman standing two feet back, then shuffled toward me.
I didn’t exactly have a type, but if I did, Madison definitely wasn’t it. That wasn’t a bad thing. It just made her different. Everything about her seemed new and intriguing. Her hair was the color of Château Margaux—the one kind of wine I actually drank. I wanted to bury my face in it and breathe her in, then kiss that smart mouth and push my hands over that perfectly plump bottom. “You’re very pretty.”
She looked at me sternly, as if she was bracing herself for a but.
“Turn around,” I said.
I slid my hands over her hips as she turned. A row of white buttons started halfway down her smooth, pale back and finished at her waist. I traced a finger down her spine, enjoying the quiver of anticipation and the way her skin pebbled under my touch. I hooked my finger in the top and started to undo the pearly fastenings.
Her shoulder blades were locked in place, as if she was waiting for something dreadful to happen.
“Relax,” I whispered, dipping and smoothing my cheek against hers. She was warm and soft and when I inhaled, her scent brought to mind summertime and wildflowers.
I turned her around and cupped her face. Her gaze fixated on my mouth, as if she were readying herself. I wasn’t sure what to make of her anxiety. Was it a compliment, or was she just nervous?
I pressed my lips against hers, trying to hold back from stripping her naked and pushing inside her. I wanted her. Too much. But I wanted her to be free of the nerves first. She needed to realize how good I was going to make her feel.
As I slipped my tongue into her mouth, melting into her, she stumbled against me and I wrapped my arm around her waist, pulling her toward me. She pressed her palms against my shoulders.
A little sigh came from her throat as she began to relax and her tongue met mine.
After a few seconds she pulled away abruptly and began to fan herself with her hand. “Phew,” she said, taking a deep breath. “That . . . You . . .” She nodded. “The kissing thing.”
If she didn’t manage to finish a sentence soon, I was going to have to give her something to say.
“You’re a great kisser,” I said, wanting to put her at ease. She tasted as sweet as she smelled.
She scrunched up her face. “Really? You—” She pointed at me and then lowered her hand sharply as if becoming aware the gesture was slightly incongruous. She lowered her voice to a whisper. “You’re a great kisser.”
I grinned and stepped toward her, pulling her into my arms again.
“That bodes well,” I said, snaking a finger under the sleeve of her dress and pushing it over her shoulder. I pressed a kiss to the exposed flesh.
“Do you think there’s a connection to what someone’s like as a kisser and what someone’s like in bed?” she asked, as if we were sitting across from each other in a coffee shop, discussing the weather.
“Shall we find out?” I said, slipping off the other sleeve and stepping back as her dress fell to the floor.
Her underwear was practical—pink and plain, the type that women wore under dresses to avoid lines showing through on the outside. It suited her. And it made me all the more curious to see what lay beneath.
I snaked my hand around her back and unsnapped her strapless bra. I took a breath as her breasts were freed. They were delicious. A perfect handful—firm and ripe—and her nipples jutted out as if they were sitting up and begging for my tongue.
I took one in my hand, kneading the flesh, walking her back to the bed. I needed to explore her, from the tip of her head to the bottom of her toes and everywhere in between.