Heated Rush - Leslie Kelly [43]
“Were you really going to just walk out of here?” she asked, suddenly sounding more aroused than indignant. “With that in your pants?”
“It generally goes with me,” he said, having to laugh, despite the intensity of the moment.
Annie arched toward him, gasping as she tilted her hips to gain exactly the contact she most needed. “I mean…”
“I know what you mean,” he growled, rubbing his face in her soft hair, “I’ve been trying to give you time, slow this down.”
“Slow’s overrated.”
“I’m beginning to figure that out,” he muttered as he closed the distance between their mouths to kiss her. Their tongues mated quickly, wildly, then they both pulled away to gasp for breath.
Realizing he was still clutching her wrist, he let her go, but did not step away, as irresistibly drawn to her as he was to the pull of gravity.
She stared up at him, her eyes glittering in the darkness. Finally, as if unable to hide it any longer, she demanded that he make a decision. “Well?”
He didn’t have to think for long. “Yes.”
Sean could have bundled her out the door, into her van. He could have tried to make it back to her place before letting himself be overwhelmed by his need of her. Would have at least carried her back into her office and slammed the door behind them.
But it was too late. There was no time, no thought, no reason. Only pure, physical response programmed deep in his genetic code that said, take, have, do.
Driven by desperate, immediate want, he reached around, picked her up by the waist and carried her a few feet to the huge, colorful ball pit she had not been aiming for. Tossing her into it, he followed her down, rolling onto his back and bringing her on top of him.
Their weight pushed him farther into the pit as the balls separated around them, but Sean didn’t care. Not giving the time and place another thought, he thrust his hands into Annie’s hair, cupped her head and dragged her mouth to his for another hot, hungry kiss.
She was voracious, greedily taking every thrust of his tongue and plunging her own deep into his mouth. Without allowing their lips to part, they both reached for their clothes, Annie clawing his shirt free of his waistband, him unbuttoning her pants and shoving the zipper down.
Slow down, a voice demanded. He knew how to make love to a woman, how to work his way around her body’s natural defenses, to drive her crazy with almost-caresses and nearly-there touches until she was a quivering mess in his hands.
But Sean was too far gone for that. Primal lust had taken over his brain. There was no calculating, no planning, no setting a predetermined course and going through familiar motions. Not now. Not with Annie.
There could be no slowing, not when he could hear her desperate whimpers, feel her sweet mouth sucking at his, smell the peachy scent of her skin mixed with the womanly musk of her aroused body.
“Got to feel you,” he muttered, reaching under her shirt, dying to touch one of her delicate breasts.
Annie had other ideas. She grabbed his hand and shoved it down, between her legs, telling him exactly where she most wanted him to go.
No slowing down for her, either, it appeared.
Groaning with hunger, he slid his hand through her open zipper. Sean shoved past the thin elastic edge of her panties, tangling his fingers in her curls, wishing he could see but content, for now, to simply touch. She thrust her tongue harder against his when his fingertips brushed against her clit, as if silently telling him to keep going, to never stop.
He’d sooner stop his heart from beating.
He continued to stroke her, tiny flicks, deeper caresses, until she had to pull her mouth away from his to gasp for breath. And when he dipped his hand lower, to part the plump, juicy lips of her sex, she cried out.
“Sweet