Good Girl (Love Unexpectedly 2)

“Jenny.”

My hand slides up over his fly, and I feel him harden. I close my eyes in relief, relishing the knowledge that it’s not just me who feels this instant connection. That I’m not the only one who can go from confused to frustrated to aroused at the smallest touch.

Noah shifts toward me, one hand sliding around behind my head. He tilts my face to his, and for a breathless moment I’m sure he’s going to kiss me, and I’ve never wanted anything so badly.

I feel his breath on my lips.

But at the last minute he shifts, just slightly, his lips barely brushing my cheek before sliding down to my neck.

I tell myself I’m not disappointed. But even though his mouth on my throat feels amazing, even as I feel my body respond, my heart is disappointed.

Noah pushes me gently back onto the bed, his palm running along the front of my tank top before skimming back up again, cupping my breast through my bra as he bends down and runs his tongue along the skin above the scoop neckline.

My disappointment is no match for my desire, and I make a contented noise, my hands sliding into his hair as his mouth moves over my chest, his hands skimming over my torso, my arms, my hips, and finally under my shirt.

I arch up, giving him access to the back clasp of my bra, letting him pull me into a sitting position so that he can peel off the shirt and bra, tossing both to the floor.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see my shirt land on Ranger, who gives us a disgusted look before scooting closer to Dolly, who allows it.

Then I forget all about the dogs, because Noah’s lips are on my breast, my nipple in his mouth, and his tongue is flicking, swirling in delicious strokes as he eases me back once more, his deft hands easily removing my shorts and thong.

Some part of me registers that I should be embarrassed about being completely naked while he’s completely clothed, but it doesn’t feel embarrassing.

It feels exactly right.

“I like the way you taste right here,” he says quietly, running his tongue along the underside of my breast. “Sweet. A little salty.”

I let out a breathy laugh. “Salty? Really?”

In response he slides up once more, his mouth fastening on the tip of my breast as he reaches down and strokes himself over his jeans, his eyes locked on mine.

It’s oddly erotic, me naked, him playing with himself as he licks me.

But after a minute or two, it’s not enough. I need to see him. Feel him. I tug at his shirt. “Off. All of it.”

There’s no playing coy tonight, and Noah stands, kicking off his shoes before stripping down, completely unembarrassed by each new bit of skin revealed to my hungry gaze.

He has a great body. I know this already, of course, but tonight it seems extra perfect, with its thick, corded muscles, the rough hair of his chest and arms catching the light from my nightstand.

He lifts his eyebrows. “Like what you see, princess?”

“Still deciding.”

He puts one knee on the bed as he leans toward me, palm skimming up my leg, stopping at midthigh. “Anything I can do to help the decision-making process?”

Holding his gaze, I reach down, taking his hand in mine and easing it up my thigh until his palm is cupping me. “Touch me. Like you did that first night.”

He groans, coming to lie alongside me, one arm slipping under my neck so that my face is nestled against his shoulder as his other hand nudges my legs farther apart, leaving room for his questing fingers.

And questing they are, dipping down slightly to my moisture before slicking back up again to rub at my clit.

I moan, spreading my legs farther, as the hand that was behind my neck comes around to cup my face, holding my head immobile as his fingers dip and explore.

“That’s it,” he whispers as I start to move against his hand. “Use me. Use my fingers to make you feel good.”

I bite my lip, wondering if he means what I think he means. I decide to go for it anyway, sliding my hand down to where his strokes me. Resting my hand on the back of his, I show him what I want. When I want him to sink a finger into me, when I want him to tease lightly, when I want him to circle.

“Jesus, Jenny,” he says as I grind myself against the heel of his hand. “How’d you get so hot?”