“I like how rough you’re being.”
Oh, hell yeah. “Feel free to be rough right back.”
I bury my face in her neck and press my teeth to her throat. Her head tilts back, and the gritty moan that accompanies the move makes me so damn hard I worry I’m going to have a permanent zipper imprint on my cock.
My hand coasts up her body and I cup her breast, the full, soft flesh heating my palm. I need to get her out of this dress, but I don’t want to put her down long enough to do it. I rub my thumb over her nipple, and she shudders in my hold. God, she’s sexy. Even the slightest touch gets a response. I want to find all her hot buttons and press them over and over until she’s out of her mind from it.
Her lips are on mine again and the long, deep kiss has me feeling wild and frantic on the inside. And I’m down for being rough. But I don’t want to hurt her or fuck this up in my rush to get us naked. I pull away and ease her down from the wall. “This will be better on the bed.”
She nods and kicks off her shoes. “Good idea. I have condoms in my purse.”
“I’ve got us covered.” I grab her hand and lead her down the hallway, hoping to hell I put away all my crap before I left for work today. Nothing like a pile of dirty underwear to ruin the mood. Luckily, when we walk in, the place looks mostly presentable. The bed isn’t made but other than that, we’re good.
I turn to Natalie and kiss her again, my hands going to the tie on the side of her dress. But when I tug, she puts her hand over mine. “Should we shower? I mean, I probably still smell like skunk and . . .”
“You smell amazing,” I say, and mean it. She smells like the grass from the lake, baked goods, and girl. There’s even a hint of some fruity shampoo lingering.
“Liar,” she says, but she’s smiling.
“Maybe I just like you dirty.”
“You would.” She cocks her head in challenge.
“There she goes again. Judging.” She laughs and I gather her flush against me, putting my lips close to her ear. “Lose the dress, beautiful. There’s only one scent I want you wearing. Mine.”
She groans softly and steps back to finish unfastening the tie on her dress. The fabric falls open, and I forget how to speak.
Chapter 7
Natalie
When I let my dress drop to the floor, I have the immediate urge to run into Monroe’s closet and slam the doors shut to hide. I’ve never felt more exposed. The red lacy bra and thong are somehow worse than being naked. Because this says—Hey there, I totally planned on getting laid tonight. And oh, I bought these to impress someone. Not you, by the way. Though, I’m really happy it is you who’s here.
Awkward.
Plus, I don’t know what kind of girl Monroe usually dates. I’m not exactly a size-two model. No quarters are bouncing off this belly. And what if I look ridiculous and like I’m trying too hard and—
“Fuck,” Monroe breathed. “I knew you were going to kill me, but jeezus. You look . . . wow.”
Monroe steps into my space again, claiming my waist with those big hands of his, and I’m no longer out there alone and self-conscious. The heated look on his face says he approves. No, not just approves. Fully endorses. He lets his hands drift down over my ass and draws me against him.
“You have way too many clothes on,” I declare.
He smiles and kisses along my collarbone. “Patience.”
But when he lifts his head, he reaches back and tugs his T-shirt over his head. And damn, the view’s even better than I expected. I could totally leave the quarter-bouncing up to him. I take my fill, my gaze tracing over all that bare skin and smooth muscle. The guy is beautiful. Like art. And the ink is even more stunning without clothing in the way. The tattooed arms are the showpiece as they give way to a mostly unmarked chest—but the small bluebird that seems to be flying away from a branch inked on his shoulder captures my full attention. I reach out and run my fingers over it, fascinated for some reason. He presses his hand over mine and smiles.
I want to ask if the bird has any meaning to him, but he’s kissing me again and I sort of forget about conversation. Tattoo analysis can wait. Especially when those long, calloused fingers have unhooked my bra and are caressing me beneath it, tugging and teasing. I reach between us and unfasten his jeans. He makes a sound that seems like relief, and I smile into the kiss as I dip my hand inside his fly.
I wrap my hand around his warmth, and we both make dirty sounds simultaneously: him because I’m sure it feels good, and me because my body clenches everywhere, the need punching through me like a fist. I curse under my breath, the desire almost too much to process. I’m no virgin, but I can’t remember ever feeling this all-consuming need to have someone.
Monroe lowers down my body, trailing kisses along the way, and shoves my bra all the way off to take one of my nipples into his mouth. I grip his shoulders hard and electricity runs right from the point of the connection straight down, where I’ve gone wet and warm and desperate.
He gives the other side the same sensual treatment, and then he’s gripping my waist and guiding me to the bed. He gives me a gentle shove, and I fall onto the mattress with a bounce. When I start to scoot back to get farther up on the bed, he grabs my ankle and drags me forward. “Not quite yet, princess. I’m not done tasting.”
“Oh.” It’s a dumb response, but I’m not capable of much more. Not when he’s lowering to his knees and slipping my panties down my legs. The strip of red lace is swept away with a flick of his wrist, and I’m spread out before him with nowhere to hide. But the anxiety doesn’t have time to fully form because he’s stroking my thighs and kissing a path upward and making me forget my name. All I can think is—yes, yes, yes. I don’t know what my name is, but that’s his new name—Yes. And when his mouth finally reaches its destination, pleasuring me in a way that has my fingers curling into the sheets, the world seems to disintegrate around me. There’s only his tongue and his lips and the decadent sensation of being consumed one nibble and lick at a time by a man who knows what he’s doing.
Monroe doesn’t rush anything. This isn’t a duty. A step in the checklist. Not like with Caleb, who seemed to think this part of the sex procedure was cumbersome and only for special occasions. This is a man who relishes this privilege.
His lips tease my hot button, making my hips tilt upward, and he slides his finger inside me. It glides in easily, my body clamping around him. I feel like I’ve been aroused for hours. Ever since that first kiss, it’s like my body has been on standby, just waiting—hoping that this would be at the end of the journey. He moves with easy confidence, stroking inside me with one and then two fingers. I feel the pressure building low and fast.
Oh, shit. No, this is too fast. I’m not ready for it to be over yet.
Use your words. But I’m having trouble finding the right ones. “Monroe, wait, I’m going to—”
He pauses for a moment. “I know, princess. That’s the point.”
“But I don’t want it to be done.”
He gazes up at me, lips glistening with my arousal as they curl into a wicked smile. He looks obscene and so fucking gorgeous I can’t stand it. “Over? Not even close, princess. This is just the first one.”
“The first?”