4th & Girl

Fuck pleasantries. Fuck manners. Fuck Leo—literally.

“I asked you to come inside for coffee because, well, I was trying to be super smooth and not so obvious. But in reality, I’m secretly just hoping you’ll come inside and get naked,” I admitted boldly. As soon as I was done, I had to avert my eyes from the vulnerable way it made me feel, but I’d done it. I was impressed with myself.

Sex-motivated or not, putting yourself out there like that wasn’t easy, and I’d taken the chance.

The car went silent for a beat, and when I found the courage to meet his face again, a slow, sexy as fuck smirk curled one corner of his mouth.

“And what will you be doing in this equation?”

You.

Even though inside, my heart was beating against my rib cage, I shrugged off his question like I was all of a sudden cool as a cucumber. I am confident, I am woman, I am sex goddess. “I guess it depends.”

His smirk grew wider. “On what exactly?”

“On if I like what I see.” I shrugged again, and a wolflike laugh left his lips.

It was amused and turned on, and good God, Grandma, the teasing was all the better to foreplay me with. Without pretense or a verbal response, he leaned right in, closer and closer until I could feel the heat of his breath mingling with mine, and then finally, he gave me the sweet relief of contact.

His lips on mine, perfect and pure, and the anticipation in my core bursting in a wild display of fireworks and let’s-get-the-fuck-inside.

The kiss turned devious when his tongue snuck past his teeth and gently licked along the seam of my mouth, and when he slipped his tongue in to dance with mine, I moaned.

Okay, who needs the indoors? Streets and cars and steamy windows are where it’s at.

It was a curl-my-fucking-toes kind of kiss, and I was more than ready to channel sixteen-year-old Gemma and engage in a hot and heavy make-out sesh in his car.

Evidently, Leo had other plans and started to slow the kiss way, way down.

“I think we both know you’re going to more than like what you see,” he whispered against my mouth as I struggled to be okay with the stopping.

I’ve mentioned that I’m a doer. A full-motion, on-the-go lady who likes to keep occupied. Well, when it came to kissing men with big hands and skilled tongues and eyes that made the sun seem dull, apparently, all that motivation to do turned into an obsession. Do lips. Do tongues. Do Leo.

Enthralled with the activities as I was, I had to shake my head at least two times to figure out what he was even answering.

Had I asked something? Suggested something saucily? I couldn’t remember. The only balm to my pout was a single final kiss he pressed to my lips like an oral consolation prize.

Still, I full on pouted. I couldn’t help it. I wanted more of whatever black voodoo magic he was sending my way. His grin was the only thing that made me feel better about the sudden silence of the engine as he climbed out the door and rounded the hood to open the one on my side for me.

An easy whisk of the door and a helping hand later, my heels hit the concrete for a split second before he lifted me up into his arms in an army hold with a whoosh. I squealed, full-on Justin Belieber at a concert decibel levels.

“Oh my God! What are you doing?”

“Just making sure you get inside safely.” He winked and took the steps up toward my apartment two at a fucking time.

“It feels like you’re in a hurry,” I said through a few giggles, but he ignored me, his strides only increasing in speed until he came to a halt at the entrance.

“Keys?” he asked simply, and I giggled again. Knowing he was suffering as greatly as I was somehow eased my own hissy fit, but that didn’t mean I slowed. As quickly as I could, I obliged by reaching inside my purse and unlocking the entry door.

Before I knew it, we were in the main lobby and nearing the elevator at a record-breaking pace.

“Are you sure you’re not in some kind of rush?” I asked again, taunting him for my own enjoyment.

No doubt about it, the man had some fucking stamina. My brain started to entertain ideas of what all of that professional football training equated to in the bedroom. I was hoping for a whole lot of touchdowns.

“Rush?” he questioned with a devilish smirk. “Not at all.”

His actions completely belied his words as, instead of waiting for the always slow as hell elevator in my building, he kicked open the door to the stairs and started jogging up them two at a time.