Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [26]
“Jaysus, man, you’re losing it,” he muttered. He sat up on the bed, dropping his legs over the side. “You barely know her.”
Why on earth her name—and face—would come to mind, and would inspire such a reaction, he honestly didn’t know. Nor was he sure that he liked it. That kind of reaction hinted at some kind of emotional connection between them, when all Sean had any interest in was the physical.
So back out, a small voice in his brain whispered.
It might be wise to retreat, now, before things got any more heated between them. He couldn’t stand her up this weekend…he knew how important that was to her. But tonight?
He glanced at the clock. After four. If he was going through with his date with Annie, he probably ought to get a move on. And if he wasn’t….
He honestly couldn’t decide. But knowing he didn’t have time to fool around, he headed for the shower, using the hot water and the steam to clear his head, let him think straight.
“Second date or not?” he muttered.
The question reminded him of their conversation at the bar the other night, the way she’d made him work for that second date. And, hopefully, a third. God, but she’d been adorable.
Thoughts of Annie’s gentle laugh, her bright smile, her slim, graceful body, had filled his head often since then. Now, though, what he remembered most was the smell of her. That soft, peaches and cream smell. He didn’t know if it came from her shampoo, body lotion, or some kind of perfume. He only knew that whenever he thought about it, he wanted to taste her. To savor her like a ripe, juicy piece of fruit.
Right here in the luxurious bathroom would be a nice place to start doing all the things he wanted to do to her. He’d love to stand Annie in front of him in the shower, aiming the twin jets of water pulsing from the two showerheads directly at her.
Sean would tuck in behind her, his chest to her back, his cock nestled up against her soft, sweet ass, their bodies slick with soap. Though the tension of it would kill him—and he’d be dying to lean her forward and clench her hips so he could slide up into her from behind—he’d show restraint. Go slow.
He’d soap his hands, then reach around to delicately wash her. Thoroughly. Intimately. Giving careful attention to her throat, her neck, her beautiful breasts.
Sliding one leg between hers, he’d hold her thighs apart, exposing her sex to the stream of hot liquid cascading down from above. And then he’d help the water in its quest to pleasure her. He’d use his touch, the feel of his hot breath on her skin, his sultry whispers about how much he wanted her, to bring Annie’s arousal level to a fever pitch.
“God, yes,” he groaned, realizing he was already there.
His body had reacted to the heated thoughts and the stroke of his own hand as he washed himself.
Knowing there was no way in hell he’d give up the chance to see her tonight—to have their second date as they inched closer to that ever-important third one—Sean gave himself over to it. To fantasy, to sensation, to anticipation.
His mind filled with images of Annie with her head thrown back as he pleasured her. Her pink-tipped breasts arching toward his mouth. It was her hand on his cock, wrapped tight, stroking him into madness. Her touch bringing him higher and higher.
His mind suddenly conjured up the scent of peaches.
Leaning one arm against the slick tile wall, he pumped into his own fist, practically feeling Annie’s tight little body clenching him, wringing him dry of thought and sensation. Until finally his every muscle stiffened. A roar of heat rushed through his veins and he came with a soft groan of pleasure.
It was enough for now. But it couldn’t begin to compare, he knew, to what was waiting for him when he did truly make love to Annie Davis.
Which meant the answer was yes to their second date.
ANNIE HADN’T HAD to go shopping for a dress. She wasn’t a clotheshorse, and seldom had use for dressy outfits. But that didn’t mean she hadn’t done what every red-blooded