Blurred Lines (Love Unexpectedly 1)

Speaking of…

My fingers reluctantly release her hair, and my mouth claims hers again as I move my hands upward on her back those crucial few inches to the clasp of her bra.

I unhook it easily, but I pause before pulling the lacy garment off, my head leaning back slightly to meet her eyes and make sure we’re on the same page.

Her eyes are glossy and dazed.

Yup. Definitely on the same page.

With a wicked grin, I slide the black straps over her shoulders, pausing at the tipping point for several seconds to torture us both, and then…

Parker Blanton is well and truly topless.

My grin widens as I smile down at her. “Parks. I think this might be the best idea you’ve ever had.”

Her voice is raspy. “More touching. Less talking.”

I move my hands upward, pausing before I touch her. “I thought you wanted to bang your best friend because of the talking. Isn’t that what you said? Parks?”

She growls in frustration, arching her back and leaning in so that her breasts find my hands, and I find that she’s absolutely right.

I was doing too much talking, and not enough of this.

Her breasts are full and firm and perfect. Sensitive, too, if the little mewling noises she’s making are any indication.

I let my palms explore, learning her shape until I reward us both for our patience with a swipe of my thumbs against her nipples, and she responds by grabbing my ass and pulling me toward her with a soft curse.

I kiss her again, once, hard, then I push her toward the bed until the back of her legs hit it and she has no choice but to sit.

My eyes never leave the awesomeness of her breasts as my fingers undo the button of her black pants, pulling them over long slim legs. Those, too, join our growing pile of discarded clothes, and then it’s just Parker in her little black panties and me in my boxers.

I can’t stop looking at her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, because she’s doing a little looking of her own, and then she clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle a giggle.

“Are we nuts to be doing this?” she asks.

“Absolutely,” I say, putting one knee on the bed, a hand on her shoulder pushing her back.

If Parker liked my mouth on her neck, she likes my mouth on her breasts even more. Likes it when I tease her with gentle kisses on the soft undersides, likes when I trail my tongue between them, loves when I take a nipple in my mouth and suck.

So lost am I in her perfection that I don’t register right away that her hands are working frantically at the waistband of my boxers.

“Someone’s in a hurry,” I say, pulling back.

“Three months, Ben,” she says. “I’m going on three months.”

“Say no more.”

I get rid of my boxers in seconds, but I take my time with her panties, easing them down just slowly enough to build her anticipation, my eyes dragging over her long legs.

And then I toss aside the last remaining garment between me and my best friend.

No. Fucking. Regrets.

She apparently feels the same, because she pushes up onto one elbow, her other hand hooking around my neck to pull my mouth down into a hot-as-hell kiss.

I kiss her back, our tongues playing some game of love and war as my hand slides slowly downward, over her flat stomach (food baby, my ass) until I find her wet and smooth and slick under my fingertips.

She bites my lip as I finger her, and it destroys the last bit of my self-control. I pull back and dive at her nightstand like a dying man. “Tell me you have condoms in here.”