After the Kiss (Sex, Love & Stiletto 1)

“So we’re good then?”

He let go of her hand and dug into his bagel. “We’re good.”

Thank God. Appetite restored, Julie reached again for her bagel.

“You up for a little run around the island?” Mitchell asked.

Julie’s sandwich paused halfway to her mouth. “The island? Please tell me you’re not talking about the island of Manhattan.”

He took a gulp of coffee, apparently completely unaware that he’d gone off the deep end. “Yep.”

“It’s a city, Mitchell. Not a damned track.”

“Still an island. And a small one at that. Thirteen miles long, only two across.”

She held up an objecting hand as she stuffed her bagel in her mouth. “Human bodies are not meant to do that. I mean, why don’t we just swim to Staten Island when we’re done?”

“I’d love to.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she said with a full mouth. “I have a better idea. How about we walk two blocks to an air-conditioned movie theater and split a big-ass bag of popcorn?”

“Or …” He caught her eye and held it, and she struggled to swallow her sandwich. She knew what that look meant.

“Now?” she asked. “But I’m all puffy and gross and—”

Julie didn’t get a chance to finish her protest as he scooped her up, Rhett Butler style, and carried her the few feet into her bedroom.

She expected him to pounce, but instead he laid her gently on the bed, crawling over her with deliberate slowness. Julie’s tiny bedroom window got exactly fifteen minutes of direct sunlight each day, and they were right in the middle of it. The room was otherwise dark except for the soft morning sun shining on her bed, and Julie smiled at the picturesque perfection of it. As though someone up there was smiling on this particular moment. On her and Mitchell’s moment.

His eyes never left hers as his palms slid up her rib cage in deliberate slowness. She framed his face with her hands. It should have felt familiar by now, but something was different this morning. Julie swallowed nervously. What now?

His dimples flashed briefly, and she knew that he felt the change too.

They knew each other’s bodies backward and forward. They knew heat, passion, lust. But there hadn’t been caring in the bedroom.

Not until right now

“Mitchell,” she said, lurching to her feet in sudden panic, “I—”

Julie half expected him to cut off her words with a kiss. She wanted that. Wanted him to take them back to when sex had just been sex and the idea of being with him didn’t seem to matter so damn much.

Instead he stood up and cupped a hand to her cheek. “You what?”

Julie fixed her gaze on his nose, unable to meet his eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d meant to say. Wasn’t sure what she should say.

He tipped her chin up, which allowed him to rain soft kisses over every inch of her face.

Julie’s eyes fluttered closed in resignation. Caring about this man was no longer a choice. It simply was.

Finally his lips came down on hers, warm and hard and achingly familiar. She clutched at the front of his shirt, trying to lose herself in the kiss, but he held back, keeping it light and easy. Making it last. His palms continued to cup her face as his lips brushed and plucked, and when the tip of his tongue finally touched hers, they both groaned.

Julie’s hands slid toward the hem of his shirt, wanting to tug it up and off, but he pressed closer against her, crushing her hands between them and continuing to kiss her senseless. When his lips finally traveled down her neck to lick at her collarbone, she was ready to come apart in his hands and they hadn’t even gotten their clothes off.

“More,” she pleaded. “Please.”

He dragged his hands down her front, his palms snagging on her hardened nipples as he paused there for a moment before continuing his slow torture. He stroked up and down over her T-shirt until she was writhing against him.

Finally, finally he slid his hands under her shirt, finding her skin warm and damp.