Page 21 of Smut Lovers

Chapter Eight

Violet

H e stood and so did she. He was a perfect four inches taller than her, and she rose onto her tiptoes to brush a kiss across his lips. “Want me to wait up in your room?”

She watched his throat work as he swallowed, then nodded.

“Don’t forget to take your coat,” she said as she headed to the stairs. “It’s cold out there.”

After he left she took a moment to take care of business and hoped he didn’t care she wasn’t shaved. She hadn’t had any reason to landscape her lady parts lately because she hadn’t dated. It’d been over two years, in fact.

Guess I’ll need to get back on the pill.

She desperately hoped Cal would purchase more than enough condoms to last them through the storm.

She was staring out his bedroom window when he returned. He dropped the bag on the bed and shed his coat as he walked over to her.

Illuminated by nothing but the dim light filtering in from outside through the snowfall, he pulled Violet into his arms and gently slanted his lips over hers.

Add good kisser to his list of pluses!

She melted into his embrace and lost herself in his lips, the way he lightly traced and teased hers with his tongue, distracting her and shutting down her brain to any- and everything except him .

I could get used to this.

When his right hand cupped her head and he threaded his fingers in her hair she softly moaned, pressing her body against his, hoping he’d take the hint.

He did, his embrace tightening, holding her along his firm frame while he continued his gentle explorations with his kisses.

It felt perfect wrapping her arms around him, like this was who she should have been with for her entire life, and the years to come. She’d never believed those “missing puzzle piece” analogies in the many romance books she’d narrated, but damned if that’s not exactly what this felt like.

I had no idea what I was missing.

Make that, I had no idea who I was missing.

All her years of fearing being trapped felt silly now that she stood exactly where she wanted to, with the man she wanted.

Someone who’d had his own chance to start over and write his own story. Someone who understood what she’d escaped and how she’d clawed her way to independence.

She wasn’t sure when they ended up horizontal and half-clothed on his bed. Him shirtless, and her sans pants. The feel of his hands stroking her bare thighs stoked fires deep inside her.

“I guess we wasted a lot of time, huh?” she whispered.

He nuzzled her nose with his. “I don’t consider it wasted; I consider it perfecting the recipe.”

She would have laughed except he started nibbling his way up her inner thighs and that made her moan.

He hadn’t shaved today, and the stubble on his cheeks lightly rasped against her flesh and sent the good kind of chills rippling through her.

She wanted to grab his head and pull it into her pussy, but he hadn’t let her shed her panties yet.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” he murmured against her skin. “I won’t rush this.”