His hands were rough on my hips, tugging me closer, and I could feel each fingerprint pressing into my skin. My senses were so heightened in that moment that I could even feel slight calluses on his left hand as they dragged toward my belly. I moaned into his mouth, feeling my skin pebble and shiver. He pulled back for a nanosecond and inhaled, gazing at me through heavy eyes and then leaned in for more.
His lips trailed down my jaw toward my neck, and I turned my head to give it all to him. It was my sweet spot, the one that made my toes point … yep, they were pointing. He used his tongue to tickle his way from my collarbone up to my ear, stopping only to nibble and nip here and there. I pulled my right hand away from his hair and began running my fingertips up and down his back, feeling his strong muscles through his thin shirt. His hands returned to my hips, pushing me backward until I felt my legs hit the table. He stopped then and lifted his head from my neck to look at me. I took the opportunity to snake my hands around to the front, slipping them under his shirt and letting them feather across his stomach. He closed his eyes.
“You’re driving me crazy, Sheridan,” he groaned, pushing me back onto the table.
“You like crazy, remember?” I quipped, scrambling up so that I was sitting with him in between my legs. “Now, come get your crazy,” I whispered, grabbing his shirt and pulling him back down to me.
It was hot.
He was hot.
I was hot. I was real y hot. I was almost … un comfortably hot. I was, burning?
“Ow ow ow!” I shouted, pushing him off me and springing off the table.
“What the what?” I cried, feeling my back. I had lain right on his espresso, knocked it over, and it was now all over my back and sweet mother of pearl it was hot! It was dripping off the side of the table and onto the floor.
“Are you OK?” he exclaimed, un-sticking my shirt and holding it away from my body so I could get a little air flow.
“Yes! God dammit, that hurts!” I cried. And what the hell, who makes out with someone as hot as this guy and then lays in hot coffee?
You do, Grace.
“You’d better take that off. It’s cooling now,” he observed, staring at the coffee destruction that I had inflicted on my shirt.
“Ya think?” I asked, more frustrated that the kissing had stopped than the fact that my back was probably blistering. I could tell he was concerned that I’d really hurt myself, but there was also a twinkle beginning to build in his eye. He was trying not to laugh as he continued to hold my shirt away from my back.
“If I take this shirt off, I’ll be topless. No bra, mister, can you handle that?” I inquired.
“Why don’t we just take a look at your back first, make sure you’re OK.
Then I’ll see about handling you,” he teased, still trying not to laugh. I turned around and grasped my tank top, pulling it slowly up toward my shoulders. As I revealed my back to him, I heard him gasp.
“Yeah, that’s right. Liking the view?” I asked, swaying my h*ps suggestively. I peered over my shoulder in what I thought was a seductive gaze. He was frowning.
“Settle down, Crazy Girl, you are really red back here. Let me get you some ice,” he replied. “Stay here.”
He walked into the kitchen and I could hear him puttering about. He came back in a minute, holding a Ziploc bag filled with ice and wrapping a kitchen towel around it. He took my elbow and began leading me into his bedroom.
I still had my shirt pulled up around my chin, trying to keep the girls under cover in front. I saw him sneak a glance down and then shake his head. He was smiling that sexy little half grin.
“You’re in quite the compromising position.”
“Compromise this,” I shot back, as we walked into his bedroom. I could tell he had just straightened up right before I got there, and I was touched.
It smelled like Febreze.
He guided me over to the bed. “Right then, you lay down, and I’m gonna put this on your back. It should feel better. I promise I won’t peek,” he stated, as I stood in front of him. I stretched up on my tiptoes to place a soft kiss on his neck and then kicked off my sneakers.
“Close your eyes,” I whispered. He grinned and his eyes slammed shut dramatically.
I lifted my shirt off over my head and tossed it on the floor in front of me.
As it hit the tops of his feet, he smiled again.
“You promised, no peeking,” I scolded, moving over to his bed.
“I know. I’m trying. You’re kind of killin’ me here. Let me know when you’re settled,” he said softly.
“All right, I’m good. You can open now,” I answered. I had settled myself on the middle of his bed, lying on my tummy, facing him. I had grabbed a pillow and placed it below me, and it was keeping me covered. Mostly. I might have arranged my cl**vage a little. He opened his eyes and took me in.
“Why the hell couldn’t you have spilled some on your pants, too, Grace?” he joked, sitting next to me. “Hold still, here comes the ice.” He gently placed the towel-wrapped ice bag on the place where it was the most red, and I hissed involuntarily.
“Does that hurt much?” he asked, his other hand running up and down my arm soothingly.
“No, not too much. It’s just the cold.”
We both smiled at each other again. I looked around his room and noticed a guitar in the corner. I would have to remember to ask him about that.
I sighed. “What’s that about?” he asked, noticing the sigh.
“It’s nothing. When I imagined me being topless in your bedroom, there wasn’t an ice pack involved,” I joked.
“You are not the only one who has imagined you topless in here. Who knew you would sustain an injury, though?” he answered.
“Well, I’m here. And I am topless.”
“Yes, and still burned. I wouldn’t want you to injure yourself further,” he stated firmly.
I looked at him. He was sitting cross legged on the bed next to me with the ice bag in one hand, holding it to my back. The other was still on my arm.
He looked like a piece of heaven. I couldn’t resist him. He was too delicious.
I sat up, with my hands still covering me. He slid the ice off my back. I reached out my hands to him, leaving me open to his gaze. His eyes widened and a slow grin spread across his face. I pushed him back onto the pillows and swung one leg over.
“It’s OK, Hamilton. I’ll just have to be on top.”
“Beautiful,” he breathed.
Nice move, Grace, now go get yours.
We did not do the deed. That would have been too easy, too soon. It would’ve been amazing, but amazing too soon. I thought about what had transpired between us as I drove home. My mind kept flashing on images that were particularly pleasant.
His eyes, staring up at me as I straddled him, running my hands through my hair, smirking down at him …
His hands, when he touched me for the first time. He’d run them slowly from my h*ps to my belly, and then proceeded, with agonizing slowness, to my breasts. He watched my face for approval as he circled me, caressing the sides of each before gently kneading my skin. I had moaned when his fingertips brushed against my nipples, which hardened instantly.
His soft smile, as he watched me begin to come undone …
His strength, as he sat up underneath me, nuzzling at my neck. He had been so careful not to touch my back, and he used my h*ps to guide me closer to him. I only cringed slightly when he grasped me there. I wasn’t quite as self conscious as I had once been. I had lost my hands in his hair again. His breath had gotten heavier and more uneven as I pressed my h*ps downward onto him, eliciting a groan that made my blood boil and my tummy flip.
His lips, as he pressed them further down my neck toward my breasts. I had arched backward to get better leverage, and he kissed down between them.
He had planted soft kisses all over, between, below and around.
His tongue, when he finally took my right nipple into his mouth. He had sucked tortuously, running his tongue back and forth before releasing it with a nibble. He had grinned wickedly at me, as he watched my reaction.
It had been unreal. There were truly no words.
When we’d finally broken apart, panting heavily, we just stared at each other with unmistakable lust. My lips had been swol en from his more passionate kisses, and the subtle scratches from his stubble. I had still been sitting on his lap, my legs wrapped around him. He had laid his head on my chest, nudging my head back so he could snuggle into the nook between my shoulder and breast. His strong arms had encircled me, making sure there was no space between our skin.
I’d trailed my hands through his hair again, more gently, using my fingernails to massage his scalp. This was something I’d quickly discovered that he loved.
He had sighed contentedly and asked, “How is it possible that I have only known you a few days?”
“I know. I know,” I soothed, pulling him even closer to me. The franticness of earlier had segued into a smooth and easy pace of touching and feeling and comforting and closeness. It was sweet.
“How’s your back?” he asked, not pulling away. If anything, he had cuddled closer to me. I felt his warm breath on my chest.
“It’s better. Thanks for the distraction,” I had replied, kissing his forehead, his temples, his nose, his eyelids, his eyebrows. He had sighed again, making a light humming sound in the back of his throat that I’d filed it away as “Jack’s Happy Sound.”
A horn honking brought me back down to earth, snapping me out of my memory. I brushed my fingertips over my still-swollen lips and grinned. I caught a glimpse of my reflection in the rear view mirror, and my heart flipped as I remembered what I was wearing. My shirt had still been wet with coffee, so when I left I was wearing one of his shirts, a long-sleeved white thermal.
It would have fit him snugly, but I was swimming in it. He took the time to roll up my sleeves for me, while I stood in front of him at his front door. I noticed, and not for the first time, how much taller than me he was. He was easily over six feet, and he gazed down at me adoringly. He handed me my ruined shirt in a baggie and smiled at me. I wondered if things would change now. We had made out all morning, hardly joking at all.
Would we be friends now? Would we be mushy now? Would we be anything now?
He leaned to kiss me goodbye and whispered in my ear, “In case I didn’t tell you, you have gorgeous tits.”
I grinned inwardly, then placed my mouth right next to his ear. “I know, wait until you see the rest of me.”
We both cracked huge smiles and I trotted away toward my car. When I got there, I looked back and saw him still standing there, watching me.
“See ya, Hamilton!”
“Later, Sheridan.”
Yeah, things will be just fine.
Jack and I had agreed that for the rest of the day, I was working. He was in between jobs right now, although he was doing more and more press for the film. Holly also had him taking meetings all over town, making sure that the doors were open when this movie premiered. All the industry trackers were predicting a commercial success, possibly even forty million plus on opening weekend. If all went well, Jack would have significant bargaining power when choosing his next few jobs. Holly was determined that they would use his new power position to secure his career, rather than capitalize on just the next eighteen months while he was the new “it boy.” Because he wasn’t technically working right now, he was enjoying his last few months of relaxation in relative anonymity, although even that was no longer guaranteed. I thought about the pictures from yesterday, and I thought how a picture of me leaving his apartment in what was obviously his shirt could affect him.
It would have looked like we were indulging in a little afternoon delight, to which I was no longer opposed.
I was behind on my work with my scene partner, not to mention almost overdue on a project that I was working on for a client. I told Jack, emphatically, that he was not allowed to call me, email me, or send me texts until I reached out to him. He was so charming that he would pull my focus from whatever task I was trying to complete—not that I was complaining. The time we spent together this morning was crazy-town good. I needed to keep both feet planted firmly on the ground, however. It would be so easy to get carried away with all things Hamilton. Besides, I had another motive for spending the afternoon alone.
I wanted to Google him.
Ever since he’d mentioned it at the beach, I’d been considering it. I mean, really, it wasn’t too stalkerish, was it? If I was dating any other guy and I knew there was oodles of information available, just waiting for me, wouldn’t I take advantage of it? Was this creepy?
Hells bells, Loretta, just Google him for fuck’s sake.
I made myself work for a few hours when I got home, after I took a peek at my back. It was still red, but not too bad. I might milk it a little next time I saw him, score some sympathy points. Maybe even a back rub. Yeah, a back rub. His hands would trail lightly down my back, further still to my panties, and then …
Focus up, Grace.
I did work for a few hours, and then I switched over to the open mike night I had planned for the following week. I strummed my guitar, practicing the songs I had chosen. I had recently begun to write some of my own songs, but I wasn’t quite confident enough about them yet to sing them in public.
I was still singing when I noticed it was almost dinnertime and Holly would be home soon. I would have to Google later. I raced through the shower and was just getting dressed when she called to let me know she was about five minutes away. She was bringing Thai home for dinner.
I was slipping into a white linen shift when she poked her head into my room.
“Hey, ass. Dinner’s downstairs and you’ve got a package waiting for you on the front porch.”