That Crazy Kind of Love

And I found myself running the rag over his skin that was already clean, transfixed, mesmerized by the sight of his body flexing from my touch.

I glanced up at him and saw the way he looked at me, his focus so intense that I stopped my washing motions, my heart jumping into my throat. The way he watched me was full of… primal need.

“God, you’re so pretty,” he murmured, and I felt his hand on my arm, his fingers trailing lightly up my forearm. Every part of me was heightened, sensitive, so ready for him.

I wanted to give myself over to Aiden. I wanted to give him my virginity. I’d never felt comfortable enough to want to give myself to someone, but I didn’t even hesitate about being intimate with Aiden.

Keep it together.

That thought moved through my head over and over again. I’d help him to bed and call Pixie to take me home. I didn’t need to cross lines right now.

“Can I touch you?” he whispered, and I lifted my gaze to his face, nodding before I could even think about what he asked. But I heard him… and I wanted that.

I licked my lips when I watched him rise, felt my heart race when I saw his hand lift, and then felt my heart drop to my belly when I felt the warm skin of his palm cover my cheek. I could barely breathe. I just wanted him to touch me. I’d also never done this before. I was a virgin, knowing nothing about what a guy liked or how to please him. Hell, trying to make myself feel good had taken some practice. A guy like Aiden no doubt knew what he liked. What if I messed up, did everything wrong? What if I ruined what we could have, because I didn’t know what to do?

“Aiden,” I whispered, unsure if what I wanted to say would actually come out of my mouth.

His big body seemed to shake slightly, as if he were trying to control himself. “Tell me what you want, Harlow. Tell me and it’s yours,” he promised.

The way he looked at me told me he wanted this, wanted me, but here we were, at this standstill, at this crossroad. So, instead of saying anything, because I didn’t trust my voice or my words not to make a fool out of me, I reached down and started loosening up his belt. The whole time, we stared into each other’s eyes. The whole time, I tried to not talk myself out of doing this. I was out of my comfort zone, had never been so free with my desires before. But I felt like I could with Aiden.

My fingers shook as I took off his belt and then unzipped his jeans. His body practically vibrated, and this low sound left him. I recognized it as need. His pants were now unbuttoned and unzipped, but I didn’t do anything else. I was too nervous. And when I felt his fingers trail along my arm that rested on the bed, my breath hitched. He watched me intently, his gaze clear despite the fact that I knew he was buzzed.

I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe as he leaned in close. He smelled good, a mixture of the cologne he wore and the whiskey he drank. The two scents coalesced as one, heightening my arousal.

And as I stared into his eyes, I felt something shift in the air. Maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the heat that suddenly seemed to fill the room, but I felt myself leaning forward too. Our mouths were just inches apart, and I closed my eyes and moved that last inch that separated us. Everything inside me yearned for this.

That first touch of my lips against his was like pouring gasoline on a fire. Sparks shot from my mouth, moved through my body, and settled right between my thighs. The sensations moving through me were intense and potent… consuming. Aiden took the lead, moving his lips on mine, slow and easy. He pushed himself up farther, cupped my nape, and tilted my head to the side to deepen the kiss. This was so much different than the kiss in the car. And I wanted more.

“Kiss me more, Aiden,” I begged against his mouth, whimpering.

And he gave me exactly what I wanted.

His tongue slipped into my mouth, and as he stroked his along mine, his answering groan had wetness spilling from between my legs. I never felt myself get this wet before, didn’t even know it was possible to be this worked up, to want someone so badly.

The taste of him was tangy from the whiskey and sweet from his passion. His hands moved from my face to grip my shoulders, pulling me roughly to him so our chests pressed against each other. God, he felt so hard and masculine against me.