Baby, you’re music.
Like rain in the desert.
Like sweet after bitter.
Everything she needed in that moment rolled up into three words she never saw coming. She couldn’t help herself. With one step, her chest was flush against his, and with her eyes, which felt wide and hot staring up at him, she gave him unspoken permission.
His lips were soft as they landed on hers—tentative, almost like he couldn’t believe what she was offering. Her breasts pushed against his chest, their softness crushed against the solid wall of muscle that she’d felt before when they’d danced on the sidewalk. They stood like that for a moment: their lips and chests touching, barely breathing, almost motionless…until their minds and bodies registered what they were doing. And then?
A chemical reaction.
With a roar of want, Cort jerked her impossibly closer, his hands palming her ass as he lifted her effortlessly onto the countertop. Mad moaned with pleasure as his tongue invaded her mouth to slide against hers. She pushed the towel off his shoulders and wrapped her legs around his waist, locking her ankles behind his back so she was pinned against him. One of his hands wound into her hair, twisting the strands until he held it back tightly, keeping her face upturned as he devoured her mouth with long, insistent strokes of his tongue. Mad arched against him, desperate to feel more of him, and he obliged her, stepping as close to her as he could and gently thrusting his hips so that the hard ridge of his erection massaged the tender, throbbing nub between her outstretched legs.
She wiggled closer to him, her fingers dropping from the back of his neck to smooth down his back. Desperate to feel his skin under their tips, they slid under the hem of his T-shirt to land on the hot, bare muscles of his lower back, her nails curling into his skin to elicit a hiss from his lips, which she greedily swallowed. The hand in her hair slackened in surprise, and she leaned her head forward, kissing her way to the lobe of his ear, which she took between her teeth and bit just hard enough for him to groan and grab her chin roughly, demanding her lips once again. His hand grasped her hair, harder now, his tongue seeking hers with blind determination. She melted against him, into him—breathless, straining, and out of her mind with longing.
In that moment, he owned her.
And until that moment, Mad had never been owned.
She had been kissed and she had had sex, but never with this sort of rawness, never with this sort of vulnerability. And instinctually she knew why.
Underneath that perfect exterior, I think you’re a little dirty too.
From the moment they’d reconnected tonight, he’d seen through her bullshit veneer of perfection, and it had opened a long-sealed floodgate, making her want to bound forth in a wave of reckless abandon. For the first time in years, she had a glimpse of freedom—freedom from her buttoned-up boyfriend and the predictable future she’d convinced herself she wanted. Fuck pearls and heels; she felt like a goddess in flannel and cotton. And she reveled in the guttural, low-toned sounds of their moans and sighs, the smacking of their lips, and the licking of their tongues. It was a filthy melody she wanted to play on repeat forever.