ds that shouldn’t find an exit. I hang on to them, knowing I can never speak them. I can never let them out. This is just a fluke. We’re two lonely and buzzed people who know each other well, and that’s all this is. I won’t let it get further than things done above clothes. I won’t have a whole pile of regrets in the morning because of the complications it could cause. I’m only here because I work for Adam, and he’s paying me for this. He’s only here because, apparently, he needs to make a point. I guess maybe it’s not to get his ex-wife back. That last part makes me deliriously happy in ways it shouldn’t.
If we keep it above clothes, it will be easy to pass off some drunk touching as what it is and just forget about it. Or at least to say I’ll forget because I know I’ll never forget. I’ll never forget a single second or a single detail.
Overhead, there’s another ominous grumble, but I take Adam’s face in my palms again and kiss him wildly and deeply, ignoring the storm outside and going full force for the one in here. If there’s going to be any regrets come morning, I want to make them worth it.
CHAPTER 8
Adam
I could argue with myself about who kissed who, but I won’t because it doesn’t matter. The point is, Steph is kissing me back. And she’s a good kisser. She makes me feel like I am too. Those little moans and whimpers and her body’s response to my touch make me feel like…like…uh…like I might actually be decent at this. I refuse to consider the fact that maybe she just hasn’t been with anyone decent. Why do I always doubt myself? She’s right. I should stop the constant badgering of myself. The striving for something I’ll never achieve. The desire to be perfect in every single thing I ever try to do.
“Are you sure?” I rasp as she breaks away to catch her breath.
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“I just…are you pretending to enjoy this? Or am I just some really sad second best?”
“Why would you say that?” I pull away a couple of inches even though my hands are still on her body—one at her waist, the other cupping her breast.
Panic flashes across Steph’s face. “It’s just that I…I’m not really your type.”
“I don’t have a type,” I respond, my voice dripping with dryness.
“Yes, you do. Your type is tall, curvy, and goddess beautiful.”
“Perfect. You’re as beautiful as a goddess.”
Her lips purse thoughtfully, and surprise flares in her eyes. “You’re smooth, aren’t you? I never figured that.”
“You know, normally I like that you speak your mind. I don’t even mind that you can be bossy. But there are times…”
Suddenly, a loud crash of thunder startles both of us. Steph practically jumps right into my lap. “Yikes…okay.” She claws at my neck, frantically dragging me to her. “I’m not bossy!”
Instead of sitting here, debating that, on the next clap of thunder, I let Steph’s nails dig into my neck and scalp. She kisses me like the storm out there. Her tongue thrusts between my lips, and I part them easily, letting her sweep into my mouth. She finds my tongue and attacks it. I have no complaints about this onslaught. Clearly, she doesn’t have any more arguments about types or whatnot either.
My hands sweep around to her waist, defining the sweet, elegant curve of it. I’m startled at how tiny it is. How fragile and feminine, yet also surprised at the defined curves that run from her rib cage all the way down to the curve of her bottom, which I don’t quite get to, because I’ve been taught by just about every single movie and piece of literature out there that grabbing someone’s butt is a good way to get punched in the face or kicked in the nuts.
That’s even when getting kissed, when Stephanie parts her lips and whimpers into my mouth, and when her hands scrabble at my shoulder and dig into my hairline. Or even when her nails score my scalp and pull at my hair. It’s still no excuse. So, I keep my hands at her waist. I don’t move my hands to her bottom even though I’d desperately like to trail them lower. And not on her breasts either, because I don’t want to touch them again uninvited. What if she realizes this time around and tries to sock me out?
And I’m still not entirely sure this kiss is permission to do more.
Although, I am entirely sure she can feel that I want to. My cock is as hard as a baseball bat and probably just about as long, and there’s no way she can’t feel it, to some degree, since she’s sitting right in my lap. Her heat is bleeding into me, so warm that it floods my entire being with ecstasy so rich and heady, it might as well be a drug. We’re both buzzed. I have to keep that in mind and keep myself in check.
Another loud clap of thunder roars outside the tent, or maybe it’s the wind. I ignore it because I’d rather focus on what Steph is doing to my mouth. She’s sinking her teeth into my bottom lip as she suckles it furiously. She moans in pleasure, then sweeps her tongue out along my lip to soothe the tingle where her teeth scraped over the tender skin. No one has ever done that to my lip, and no one has ever kissed me like it’s an art form. Like they care about the art they’re making, and maybe a little about my pleasure as well.
Okay, it’s obvious she cares a lot about me enjoying this, and it makes my head nearly swim right off my shoulders. I could blame it on the beer, but I know it’s not that. Or rather, not just that.
As Steph deepens the kiss, her hips swivel, grinding hard against the rod of steel that passes as my dick, and I see a bright light flash across my eyes. It lights up the tent for just a split second.
It takes me a little longer to realize that my eyes are open, and the light was coming from outside. It’s the lightning, and a booming clap of thunder and a strange roar echo with it. Steph doesn’t even take notice. She grinds down hard on me, whimpering into my mouth while her tongue tangles with mine. Her pert breasts thrust against my chest.
There are all sorts of reasons this is wrong. And I know them. I do. I swear, I do. I’m just finding it hard to focus on them right now and recall what they are. Something about Steph being my secretary. Something about…
Bang!
A clap of thunder shakes the tent and the ground beneath us. The strange roar intensifies. I think it’s probably just the blood roaring to my ears because what Steph is doing feels really, really good. Her warm, wet core grinding against me is sending shivers of pleasure shooting through my body. I don’t care that we’re both wearing clothes. I can feel her heat and wetness straight through all those layers, I think.