I cup his face in my hands and drop off the ledge into his texture, his taste, the hoarse sounds he’s making in the back of his throat. We’re walking somewhere, but I can’t find the willpower to take my tongue out of his mouth. A responsible inner voice I didn’t know I had tells me I’m making him late for work, but that enormous part of him lifting and rubbing between us definitely needs me now. Now. I need him back so bad, too. He has to keep stopping on his journey to wherever to give me a thorough enough kiss.
Finally, I sense us entering a room and my back lands on softness. My bed in the guest room. Not a beat passes before we’re rushing to get undressed. As I watch Elijah shed his jacket and open a few buttons on his shirt, I’m flushed head to toe, growing wetter between my thighs by the second. My body has no choice in the matter, because he’s determined, focused, shoulders flexing, tongue skating over his lips. A God-man towering over me. I’ve only managed to kick off my running shorts and underwear when he lands on top of me, our mouths colliding in a moaning dance of tongues.
He draws up my shirt between us, his right hand skating over my sports bra—and he lifts his head. I’m so disoriented from lust, I don’t realize right away why he’s stopped kissing me.
“Pink bra,” he rasps, taking a handful of my right breast. “Were you planning on running along the Battery in this?”
Uh oh. I try to distract him by rolling my hips, but apart from his eyelids dipping, he doesn’t bite. “I’m wearing a shirt over it.”
“Were you planning on keeping it on?” he asks, circling a thumb over my peaked nipple. “Or were you going to strip it off soon as I walked out the door?”
My best friend knows me too well. He can see the answer in my eyes. “Women run in sports bras all the time. It’s not unusual.”
The words are barely out of my mouth when Elijah yanks the bra up, allowing my breasts to bounce out. If he didn’t already know I was turned on, he would now. My nipples are in such tight points, they ache. So much that when Elijah touches one with the tip of his index finger, my back arches without consent. “One layer between these sexy tits and the world is not enough for me. I’m settling for two. You’re provoking me with one.”
“It has nothing to do with you,” I manage. “I just don’t like a sweaty shirt sticking to my skin.”
Elijah settles more firmly between my legs, the bulging fly of his pants rocking up into the juncture of my thighs. My thoughts go foggy, my lips pressing together to keep from begging for Elijah to unzip and take me. “You give me a lot of grief about my size,” he says, rubbing our lips together. “If I didn’t wear briefs underneath my dress pants, people would see everything I’ve got. Would you like that?”
Jealousy and possessiveness claw me like a feral alley cat. “That’s not funny.”
“No. It’s not.” He leans down, running the very tip of his tongue around my areola. “If I can be uncomfortable and needing to adjust myself in slacks all day, sugar, you can deal with a sticky T-shirt.” I don’t like being told what to do and Elijah damn well knows it, but he covers my mouth when I start to voice a protest. “We could keep arguing. Or you could open your legs like a good girl and get a nice treat.” He removes his hand and kisses me long and hard, slanting our lips together until I’m writhing beneath him. “Which is it going to be?”
“What were we arguing about again?” I whimper.
Our wet lips brush. “You think you can talk your filth to me while I’m tonguing that pussy?”
My lungs evacuate in a rush. Elijah is going down on me. Is this real life? “I n-never back down from a challenge.”
His eyes, still so heavy with lust, hit me with a serious look. “Will you sleep beside me tonight?”
“Where? You won’t fit in here and—”
“I’ll handle it. Yes or no.”
“Fine,” I whisper, my heart speeding into a gallop. “I’ll sleep with you.”
We stare at each other until smiles bloom on both of our faces. “It took the morning, but I do believe we just got on the same damn page.” He has no idea I’m on thirty different pages, too, but I don’t have the heart or the courage right now to tell him. “Let’s stay on it, okay?”
I pull my lips into the pout I know will distract him. “Can I have my treat now?”
“God, yes.” Elijah’s growl starts a purr in my middle and his lips track down my sternum to meet it. I can’t believe this is happening. I’m naked from the waist down, my bra hiked up near my collarbone…and Elijah is still fully dressed in his stuffy mayor clothes. It’s every fantasy I’ve ever allowed myself, but a million times better, because I can feel the rasp of expensive material on my thighs, my belly. He still hasn’t shaven, so the scrape of his beard awakens screeching nerves that run amok in every direction. “In the spirit of staying on the same page,” he says in a low voice, kissing me right below the belly button. “I should confess this treat is really for me.”