She opened her eyes. Instead of eating, Lawe watched her. The intensity of his focus made it hard to breathe. The turned-on part of her body won a key battle in the war.
“It’s been a long time for me,” she whispered. “We don’t have to…”
In a few days, he’d leave, return to Seattle. She’d never see him again. This was one moment, ripped out of the ordinary fabric of her world. If she could only calm her nerves, this would be the perfect affair.
She put a finger to his lips, silencing him. “I want to.”
He nipped her finger with his teeth, then swirled his tongue over the bite. Her nerves tried to rally, but finally the heat snaking through her body overwhelmed their forces.
He pulled her from the kitchen, his fingers laced hard and deep with hers as though he were afraid she’d change her mind. At the door to her bedroom, he unclasped the bracelet from her wrist and hung it on the doorknob.
A goofy giggle escaped before she could choke it off. “Is this the exorcist version of hanging a scarf on your dorm room door?”
“Something like that.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her, tasting like chocolate and sex. They tumbled through the doorway and he swung her around, the force of her body bumping the door shut. She locked her arms around his neck and hiked herself up to wrap her legs around his waist. The strength of her response shocked her. He adjusted his grip, steadying her between the door and his body, and freed one of his hands to slide up her side. His thumb grazed her nipple. An urgent little sound escaped her and he cupped her breast, molding her. Sweet, sharp anticipation flooded her.
His erection ground against her and she gasped, the feel of him pounding through her blood. God, she’d missed this.
Lawe broke their kiss, his breathing ragged. “Give me one minute. Ninety seconds tops.” She blinked, trying to understand his words through her sexual haze. “Ninety seconds? That’s just the first time, right?”
A short, startled silence followed her words and then he threw his head back and laughed.
She dropped her feet to the ground, a nonsexual kind of heat rushing to her face. Okay, she’d been blunt, but after all this buildup, didn’t she have a right to expect more than a minute and a half of passion?