She nodded again.
“Want to get it over with?” He did. Now before it was too late. Before the sheriff came knocking on his door with a copy of his criminal record in hand, asking questions. Before Lillie found out about his past.
Or turned him over to Clara. He needed her to know the real Jon Swartz. The man inside who would love and protect for as long as she’d let him.
After her third nod, Jon stood in front of her.
Taking her hand, he led her to the living room and the couch she’d admired, but didn’t sit down. Pulling her against him, he let her feel the extent of his arousal and gave himself the heavenly relief of pressing himself into her sweet body. Then he dropped his mouth to hers.
The kiss wasn’t “hello.” Or “I want to get to know you.” It wasn’t even “I want to taste you.” Jon, a man who generally held back in deference to his overzealousness, took Lillie in his arms and went straight for “I have to have you.”
Her response was better than anything he could have imagined.
* * *
LILLIE ENJOYED SEX. She felt the usual things in the usual ways. But Jon’s touch ignited feelings she didn’t know existed. A hunger and aggressiveness she’d never have believed possible of herself.
Like a stranger at her own party, she moved and reacted, and didn’t recognize herself at all.
And all they’d done was stand in Jon’s living room and kiss.
“Who am I?” she murmured aloud as Jon lifted his lips and stared down at her. Her only consolation was that his breathing was as ragged as hers.
“My dream come true.”
The words should have been corny. The sincerity shining from his eyes melted her.
Melted any last speck of her that his body hadn’t already incinerated.
Her hands moved of their own accord as they stood there staring at each other. Her palms had already traversed every inch of his smooth and muscled back. His shoulders.
Now, as they separated an inch, she slid her fingers around to the front of him, burying them in the mass of dark hair covering his chest. His nipples were there, waiting for her, but she avoided them for the moment—almost afraid of what that next step would bring.
“I’ve wanted to do this since that first walk we took on campus.” She couldn’t believe she’d told him that.
“You have?”
“Uh-huh.” The roughness of his hair tickled her palms as she lightly massaged his pecs. “You had your shirt unbuttoned and your hair was peeking through and...I noticed it.”
“You want to know what I noticed about you?”
She hadn’t thought she could get any more turned on. Any more needy. “Yes.”
“Your hands.”
“What?”
“Your hands. They’re slender and soft and feminine and so...capable.”
His hips, still pressing against her, shifted, drawing her attention to his very erect penis. She pushed her pelvis against him.
“You’re turned on by my hands?” It was different. But nice.
“Yeah...” The word was as much a groan as a verbalization. “And your legs and your butt. The slenderness of your waist. The way your hair falls out of your ponytail. But your breasts really do it for me....”
He pushed against her again with his lower half while separating their torsos just a bit as he glanced down at her top.
Could he tell that her nipples were hard and straining for him? “But then, looking at your knees does it for me, too,” he added.