Outrageously in Love by Jen Morris

23

“Ithink we should have sex,” I blurt.

Luke’s eyebrows spring up. “What?”

I repeat myself with less certainty. “I, er, I think we should have sex.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” I push away from the counter, pacing as I think aloud. “There’s so much sexual tension between us and it’s making things impossible.” I recall Alex upset in the bathroom at the bar last night. I can’t let her down, but I also need to be practical here. I turn back to Luke. “Maybe if we sleep together—just once,” I add, raising a finger for emphasis, “it might help to… I don’t know. Defuse it. Then we can get on with the wedding.”

“Defuse it?” Mirth colors his tone. “You make it sound like a bomb.”

“Well—” I huff a laugh. “I do kind of feel like I’m on the brink of exploding when I’m around you. And I know it’s not just me.”

“It’s not.” We share a loaded glance, then he scrubs a hand over his jaw, considering my words. “So… just once?”

“Yes. We’ve agreed that the wedding is what matters most.”

“Yeah, and I want that to be our number one priority. But…” He steps closer, heat simmering in his eyes. “I also want you.”

I breathe out in sheer relief. “I want you too, Luke. You have no idea how much.”

“God, I love hearing you say that.” He takes my face and tilts it up to his. When his lips meet mine, all the nerve endings in my body tingle with anticipation. I relax against him, sliding my hands up his chest, gripping onto his shirt again.

Then I pull back enough to meet his gaze, narrowing my eyes. “Just to be clear,” I say, thinking of him teasing me last night, “this is not me begging you for sex.”

He chuckles, dropping his hands from my face and taking his glasses off, placing them on the counter. I’m about to protest when he turns back to me. “Okay. How about I even the playing field a little bit?”

“What?”

He forces a serious expression. “Harriet, can I please kiss you?”

“Well, alright,” I say with mock reluctance, when what I really want to say is, Fuck yes, do it now and don’t stop.

I wait for his mouth to land on mine again, but he buries his face in my neck. “Harriet, can I please have sex with you?”

My knees weaken as his lips move over the sensitive skin below my ear, and I giggle, feeling woozy.

“Please let me touch you. Please let me take your clothes off. Please let me do dirty things to you.”

My giggles die away as heat trickles down through my middle. Now I’m not laughing; I’m practically gasping for breath.

He draws back to gaze at me. “Please?”

“Shut up,” I mutter, standing on my tiptoes and circling my arms around his neck.

He grins, lowering his mouth back down to mine. He kisses me softly, teasingly, nibbling my lip, grazing my jaw, kissing the corner of my mouth—all while keeping his mouth closed. I grumble against his lips in frustration, wanting nothing more than to thrust my tongue down his throat.

“Shhh,” he whispers between chaste kisses. “I’m trying to kiss you.”

Oh, I know what will do the trick. I’ll channel Yoda. “Do or do not, there is no tr—”

“Don’t.” He puts a finger over my lips, a sexy grin tilting his mouth. “If you keep that up, I’ll fall in love with you.”

Happiness swells in my chest like a balloon and I quickly pop it. Just once, I remind myself. You are only doing this once. He’s being silly.

I go to kiss him again but he pulls back, sliding his hands down and squeezing my butt. “I love these jeans.”

I gaze at him desperately, on the brink of begging again. Why has he stopped kissing me? I’ve been thinking of nothing else since the plane and it feels like he’s dangling it in front of my face.

He slides my glasses off and places them on the table. Then he runs a fingertip along the bridge of my nose. “You have the cutest freckles there.”

“Luke!” I finally cry. “Why are you moving so slowly?”

He laughs at my exasperation. “I’m just taking my time.”

“Why? On the plane we were halfway done by now.”

“This will be nothing like the plane,” he says, seriously now. “If we are only going to do this once, I need to make it count. So quit your complaining.”

I snap my mouth shut, suddenly understanding. He’s trying to savor it. And I should be too. Except, God, now that he’s touching me, now that I’m close enough to smell his spicy, woody aftershave and his soap, my legs are practically trembling with my need for him.

He takes my hand and guides me across the living room, into his bedroom. He flicks the light on and I stop in the doorway, taking it in. It’s nothing like the rest of the apartment, with its white, gleaming, sterile surfaces. Instead, the walls are painted navy blue, so dark they’re almost black. A collection of framed retro comic book and Star Wars prints hang above the bed. There’s a worn, brown leather armchair in one corner, a wooden dresser, and a charcoal-gray rug. The only color is a red throw across the foot of the bed and a mustard-yellow lamp.

He flicks another switch and the lights dim slightly. He motions for me to look up and when I do, my breath catches in my throat. The ceiling is dotted with tiny lights, like stars, against a dark background.

“Wow,” I whisper. It’s amazing in here; so out of place with the rest of the apartment. I open my mouth to say something but he smiles, getting there before I can.

“I got this room redone a few months ago because I was having trouble sleeping.”

“I love it. You should do the rest of the place like this.”

He nods, slipping his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, that’s what I’m going to do. I decided that when you destroyed the rug.”

I turn my hands up. “You’re welcome?”

He chuckles. Then he steps towards me, almost nervously. “Still want to do this?”

I bite back a smile. I love it when he gets self-conscious like this. “No, actually. I think I’m going to head off.”

His brow furrows and I giggle.

“Oh my God, I’m kidding!”

He lets his breath out in an embarrassed laugh, his posture relaxing. “Sorry. This feels kind of surreal. I didn’t think I’d get lucky enough to be with you again.”

My heart swoops. “Me too.”

He reaches for the bun on my head and slides the hair tie off, letting my hair tumble down over my shoulders. “Oh,” he says on a sigh, tucking a strand behind my ear. “I love your hair.”

He takes me by the waist and tugs me close. His gaze drops to my mouth and, impatient, I push up onto my toes to steal a kiss. When he parts his lips, I can’t help myself—I flick my tongue against his. He responds by tightening his hands on my hips and pressing his arousal into my belly. And when he kisses me back, this time he’s not pacing himself. He strokes his tongue over mine in a wet, dirty kiss—a promise of what we’re going to do to each other. Lust spirals down my limbs, emanating out through every nerve in my body, and I push him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him.

I don’t think I’ve ever done that with a guy before. With Luke, though, I can’t make myself behave. This is what it was like on the plane: he made me want to do things I would never normally do. Kissing him is a different kind of intensity that makes me feel like I’m someone else.

But he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, he lies back happily, his pupils wide and dark with anticipation, his mouth curved into that gorgeous grin of his. I pull his shirt up his body and he wriggles it off over his head, tossing it aside. He’s in good shape for someone who spends so much time playing video games.

I touch his firm stomach, asking, “Do you work out?”

“Yeah. Sometimes it’s the only thing that keeps me sane.”

I nod in understanding. When I’m feeling especially anxious, I go for long walks to burn off the excess energy.

“This past week, when I wasn’t with you I was at the gym,” he says. “I would have snapped a lot sooner otherwise.”

I smile wryly. “So, this is you managing this situation well?”

His laugh morphs into a grimace. “No. Obviously.” He draws my mouth down for a kiss. “I think you know what you do to me, Harriet. I slept with you two hours after I met you. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. You just… have this effect on me. I can’t explain it.”

“Yeah,” I whisper. “I know the feeling.”

We gaze at one another in the dim light, and I brush my mouth over his, savoring the way his bottom lip feels so soft against my own. I’m vaguely aware of a thought hovering at the edge of my mind—that I’m going to want to do this more than once—but I shove it away, focusing on Luke. His hair is ruffled and I push my hands into it as I kiss along the hot skin of his shoulders and chest. Then I lean over to inspect the tattoo on his left bicep, and my mouth widens into a grin. I can’t believe it.

“Oh my God,” I tease. “What kind of super-nerd gets the Millennium Falcon tattooed on his arm?”

Luke’s cheeks streak with crimson and I kiss them both. He goes to speak, but I cover his mouth with mine.

“It’s fucking hot,” I say, dragging my teeth gently over his bottom lip. “I love it.”

His brows rise, then he shakes his head with an evil grin. “Oh, you’re going to pay for that.” Before I can respond, he flips us over so I’m on my back and pins my hands above my head.

I shriek, pretending to squirm, but I’m surprised to find I’m completely at ease with him taking charge. I trust him. And perhaps even more surprisingly, I don’t just feel comfortable with him holding me down—it’s kind of turning me on. I’m at his mercy, and that thought thrills me. I spend so much of my life trying to stay in control, but right now I feel like I can let go.

I gaze up at his strong, muscular arms, pinning me in place. How is it possible that something as normal as forearms can be so damn erotic? Why on earth—

“You okay?” Luke is watching me, hesitant. “Do you want me to let you go?”

“No, I like it. It’s just…”

“What?”

I chew my lip. “Okay. Don’t judge me, but you have such nice forearms. I’m kind of… obsessed with them.” My cheeks warm. “Is that weird?”

He shrugs. “You know I’m obsessed with your hair.” He releases a hand to stroke it over my head and gather my hair to one side, caressing it tenderly, reverently. I smile, feeling adored. Then he wraps it around his fist and gives the tiniest tug, and heat detonates inside me.

Christ. I didn’t expect to like that so much.

I wriggle, feeling restless, wanting his body on mine. He drops down to kiss me hard, pressing his hips between my parted legs and grinding against me. The friction is divine, but there are far too many clothes in the way. He must think so too, because he peels my sweater off and unhooks my bra. When he dips his head to suck my nipple into his mouth, I gasp at the shocking surge of electricity through me. He continues over my stomach, unzipping my jeans and tugging them down my legs, discarding them on the floor. My underwear follows, and he lowers himself to his elbows, sliding his hands up my thighs and guiding them open.

I think of past boyfriends who didn’t like doing what Luke’s about to do, how annoyed they got because I wouldn’t orgasm in five seconds. Then I have a brief moment of insanity. “You, um, don’t have to…”

Luke stills. “You don’t want me to?”

I prop myself up onto my elbows, glancing down at him. “Well, yes,” I say, laughing awkwardly. “But usually guys don’t… I mean, don’t feel like you have to.” Stop. God.

“Usually guys don’t what?”

I cringe. “They don’t want to. They just want to get on with it.” Why are you talking him out of this?

Luke gives me a strange look. “You’re dating the wrong guys, Harriet. Do you think I’m down here out of some sense of obligation?”

I lift a shoulder.

“I’m not.” He urges my legs further open, letting his gaze settle between them. “This is for me. I want to taste you. I want to feel you come on my tongue.”

God, that’s hot. But uncertainty stirs inside me. “What if I… can’t?”

He looks up at me and his face softens. “Well, I’ll be down here all night trying.” He hooks his mouth into a filthy grin, then sweeps his tongue over the wet heat between my thighs. A soft groan escapes him. “Fuck,” he murmurs, tasting me again. “So sweet.”

Holy mother of God. I’m going to pass out, I’m so turned on. I’m not sure if it’s from his words or what he’s doing with his mouth, but hell, I want it all. No one has ever said anything that sexy to me, and no one has gone down on me purely because they want to—because they want me—that badly.

I’m dazed with pleasure as he works his tongue on me, slowly and skillfully. My hands go to his head and thread into his hair, my hips rocking up to meet the movements of his mouth. When I look down, he lifts his mouth away and slides two fingers into me, watching as they move in and out, before lowering his tongue again.

I nearly combust. Heat licks across my skin, concentrating in a ball of burning energy low in my abdomen. My hands grasp at the sheets, tightening into fists, my thighs pressing together around his head. But he pins me down, holding me in place while he brings me to the edge. I let out a broken whimper, throwing my head back on the bed as I’m lost in sensation.

It takes me a moment to come down from the high and catch my breath. How on earth did he manage to do that to me so quickly when no other man has even come close?

He pulls himself up until he’s sitting back on his heels, admiring me spread out on his bed. His eyes drink in my naked skin, absorbing every freckle, every curve, every scar—there’s a few of those. I’ve never been in this position, this exposed—not with the lights on—but I actually feel okay. Under Luke’s gaze, I not only feel comfortable, I feel good. I feel alive.

“You are so unbelievably sexy,” he says, unbuckling his belt. Delight sings through me at his words.

“So are you.” I drag myself up to sitting, reaching forward to unzip his jeans. “Especially like this,” I add, loving the way his breath hitches as I wrap my hand around the hard heat of him. I want to give him what he just gave me. I want to get down on my knees and take him into my mouth until I make him incoherent with pleasure. But the truth is, I don’t know how to do that. Not well, at least. And I’m too scared to try.

Instead, I watch as he stands, shucks his pants, and rolls on a condom. He climbs back over me and positions himself between my legs, pausing to lean down and press his lips to mine. As he kisses me, my need for him grows again until I’m physically aching to feel him inside me. I’ve never felt a need so intense, and it’s only made worse as he continues to take his damn time.

The word “please” flies out of my mouth before I can stop it and I wince, waiting for him to laugh.

But he just gives a sexy grunt, his eyes hazy as he pushes into me. His low moan reverberates against my lips and I wrap my legs around him, drawing him in as deep as I can. Every atom in my body pulses with ecstasy.

“God,” Luke rasps. “You feel even better than you did on the plane.”

I give a satisfied sigh in response. This isn’t like the plane at all—it’s slower, more intentional. I’m trying to map the feel of every muscle in his back as he moves over me, the delicious scratch of his scruff against my collarbone. I want to memorize every one of his sounds, the way his skin tastes salty but his mouth tastes sweet—tastes like, well, him.

He’s taking his time, too; lips traversing my neck, my jaw, then coming back to mine. His movements are careful and measured, his expression is one of concentration. Maybe he’s trying to mentally record everything as well.

Once will never be enough.

The thought I was fighting earlier comes back in full force. I try to push it away, but it’s insistent. I need to make every second count.

My tongue slips out and traces the shell of his ear. He groans into my neck, pressing himself deeper, so I do it again before sucking his earlobe into my mouth.

Lifting himself up, he draws all the way out of me. I’m hollow with the loss of him, surprised by the sudden and shocking sense of emptiness, and a little gasp of frustration escapes my lips.

He looks away self-consciously, his cheeks turning pink. “I, uh, just need a minute.”

Oh.

I take the chance to enjoy the view of his sexy chest and sculpted shoulders. He’s just pure, firm muscle under smooth, soft skin. I could kiss every single inch of him and never get enough.

I glance away, trying to ignore the disappointment building behind my breastbone. Once this is over, that’s it. That will have to be enough.

Before I can dwell any more on that thought, Luke leans down and slowly sinks back inside me. My body eagerly welcomes him, as if he’s been gone for an eternity rather than only a few seconds. Then he holds himself over me, giving a cautious roll of his hips, watching as I writhe beneath him.

“Deeper,” I urge, wrapping my legs around him, tugging him down against my skin. I grab his ass and pull until he’s buried inside me.

“Oh my God.” His breath rushes out against my lips. “Do you know how amazing you feel?”

I don’t get the chance to answer, because when he grinds into me hard, my mind empties. His hips move again in strong, deep thrusts, and something primal awakens inside me. I claw at his back, panting into his skin and biting his shoulder as heat blazes down through my center.

His lips move to mine and his kiss becomes urgent, his moans spilling right onto my tongue. He slides one hand down to the slickness where our bodies are joined, touching me until I’m frenzied and whimpering. And when he rasps, “Come for me, Harriet,” the inferno inside me erupts. Pleasure bursts from my core—nuclear, white-hot. I cry out, but it’s swallowed by his mouth, by his own raw, gasping groan as he joins me in release.

When I finally come to, we’re a mess of tangled limbs and broken breaths and sweat. My heart is going a million miles an hour, and as Luke withdraws and rolls off beside me, I feel hollow.

I try to stay in my body—to focus on the warm, pleasant sensations humming through me—but my mind won’t obey. My thoughts come crashing in, reminding me what Luke and I agreed.

Just once.

We’ve done that now. It’s over. It was amazing—hell, if I thought the plane was good, that was nothing compared to this—but that’s it. Mission complete, return to base. We did what we said we’d do, and now we go back to focusing on the wedding. We go back to how things were before.

Even if that’s the last thing I want to do.

“That was…” Luke begins beside me, and I tilt my head to look at him.

“Yeah.”

There’s a tiny crease in his brow as he assesses me. “Better than John Stamos?”

I choke on a laugh. “Better than anything.”

His eyes smolder in agreement, and I have to fight the urge to climb onto his lap and beg him to take me again.

I wrench my gaze away, my mind spinning. It’s slowly dawning on me that us having sex again might not have been the best idea. When I hazard another glance at Luke, I see the same realization on his face—in his gaze, in the way he’s worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. That beautiful bottom lip.

I can’t help myself. I reach over, stroking my thumb over his lip, his cheek, his jaw. He closes his eyes, pressing a kiss to the inside of my wrist, and my heart twists.

Fuck.

We didn’t defuse the bomb. We just lit the fuse.