I was so tired of waiting. Waiting for him to notice me, waiting for him to make a move, waiting and wondering if he was even interested. Oh, there'd been plenty of signs β subtle ones, like the casual brush of his hand over my shoulder, the quick full-body hugs that left me breathless and weak. But something had always kept us apart.
First it was my boyfriend, the one I'd had for almost a year before I met TJ. Dan and I got along fine, but it was nothing like the fireworks that blew through me when Dan introduced me to his old Navy buddy. TJ took my hand, looked into my eyes and said hello β and I swear the earth fell off its axis.
I managed to cover it well. Too well, apparently. No one except me ever knew of those long, aching nights I spent sweating my way through another fantasy of TJ's dark skin against mine. I longed to feel his weight pressing into me, feel his tongue devour my mouth, his hands roving over every inch of me. I wanted to feel him deep inside of meβached for it in ways I had never before imagined. But while my nights were filled with visions of hot, soul-shaking sex, my days were spent with me being the good little girlfriend Dan thought he had.
Dan and TJ spent a lot of time together that fall. TJ had just moved back into the area, and Dan took the opportunity to show him around. As often as not they'd end up back at Dan's house, nursing a beer and laughing about their tours in the military. Since I was Dan's girlfriend, and knew how to grill something slightly tastier than Dan's typical charcoal briquette, I found myself spending a lot of time around a man whose slightest grin had me clenching my thighs together in reaction.
I think at some point TJ became aware of the flashflood of desire that ripped through me whenever he was around. He started making it a point to give me hugs when he came over, of opening my door and pulling out my chair β things Dan just never gave thought to. And luckily Dan never saw the subtle shift of TJ's dark hand where it slid from chair back to drift along the curve of my shoulder blade as he stepped back from holding my seat, or how when he held the door for me, he would shuffle marginally closer, so that as I walked through, I was forced to brush against him, breast to chest, thigh to thigh.
One time when he did that I looked up, my cheeks flushed in a combination of pleasure and embarrassment, and found his eyes locked onto my hardened nipples, visible even through my clothing. Well, his rapt attention did nothing to lessen my arousal, and I watched his eyes heat up as he watched my body respond to his gaze.
I found my hand lifting toward him, and to this day still don't know what I would have done, had Dan not walked into the room right then and swirled me up in a huge bear hug. I tried not to grimace at his touch, but it was hard to want my boyfriend's hands on me when the man who shook me to the core was leaned back against the wall, watching, a slight smirk tipping the corners of his lips.
I smoothed my sundress back down over my thighs, pushing my hair back off my face. If I wasn't careful, I was going to ruin the comfortable relationship I had with Dan over the almost violent reactions I was having to his friend's casual flirting. Straightening my shoulders and telling myself to play it cool, I headed for the kitchen to get a much-needed beer and to work on dinner, but Dan caught my hand and swung me around.
As my dress swirled dangerously high, my boyfriend asked me why I was so dressed up. With a sigh of exasperation, I reminded him that I'd had a job interview that day. Dan's sweet, boyish grin tried to make up for the fact that his memory was more like a rusty sieve than a steel trap.
Mentally rolling my eyes, I took my sweater off, neatly folding it over the back of a kitchen chair, not wanting to risk ruining the soft wool with barbeque sauce. I thought I heard a low hiss, but when I looked around, I was alone. Shrugging my now-bare shoulders, I pulled on an apron and got to work, efficiently preparing dinner.
I was wrist deep in meat and sauce when I felt the frisson of awareness that always rippled through me whenever TJ was around. A second later I felt the heat of his body against my back as he stepped a hairs-breadth away from me, his lips grazing my ear in the slightest of touches as he whispered that he thoroughly approved of my dress, but how he'd dearly love to see me in just that apron I had slipped on, and nothing else.
My knees shook, and it wasn't until my vision grew dim that I realized I'd forgotten to breathe. With a gasping, wheezing chuckle, I tried to cover my flustered state, falling back on the easy banter we'd come to share over the past few months. But to my surprise, TJ simply grabbed my waist and pressed full-length against me, one hand sliding over my stomach and the other lifting to tuck stray strands of my hair back into my loose bun before tipping my head and nibbling his way along my neck.
Had he not been pressing me so tightly against the table, I would have slid to the floor in a boneless heap.
Over the pounding of my blood, I heard him murmur that he'd tried to keep his hands to himself, but just had to see if I tasted as good as I looked. Turning me gently into his arms, he held me tight, both of us ignoring the sauce dripping from my hands as he nibbled his way from my ear to my lips, finally, finally claiming them with a thousand times more finesse and style than I had imagined in any of my sweaty fantasies.
I moaned, lifted my hands to his shoulders, shifted his hips into the hollow of mine, and delighted in the explosions rocketing through my body. Tipping my head back in pleasure I took a long, deep breath...and felt his hands in my hair, loosening my bun until the soft weight of it filtered through his fingers to spill against my back. With a groan he grabbed a handful of that silken, fragrant cloud and pulled my face back up to his.
There was nothing even remotely gentle about this kiss. Powerful, possessive, potent β it sizzled through me, leaving my shaken and enflamed in its wake. I licked a questing lip over my swollen lips, slid my still-saucy hands over the front of his shirt, wrapped a knee around his hip, and leaned back over the table, pulling him with me.
I was oblivious to the rest of the world as his weight settled on me, right there on the big butcher-block table in my boyfriend's kitchen. His kisses ravaged my sensibilities, his whispers made me gasp at the images he painted so vividly, and his hands completely controlled my body. I could barely think for the sensations that were doing a good job of drowning out any voice of reason.
I was tugging TJ's shirt out of his jeans when he stopped kissing me, bracing himself on his elbows and pulling ever-so-slightly off of me. I mewled in frustration, trying to pull him back down onto me. Rubbing a gentle thumb against my cheek, he smiled sadly, shaking his head no.
"We can't," he whispered, his eyes going from hot and dark to sad, then back again.
Still thrumming with the pleasure of his touch, I merely whined in disagreement, arching my back, wrapping both legs around his waist and boldly offering what his hard length was clearly interested in having.
Again he shook his head.