Inside Out - Lauren Dane [60]
“That’s a very good way to look at it. It’s quite an accomplishment to have done all this. What does your family think?”
“Oh well, they don’t really; we don’t talk about it much.”
She leaned forward, putting her mug down and turned to him more fully. He liked the way she firmly gave him her full attention. It was rare to see in most people who generally only half listened while they texted or thought about television or whatever.
“Why is that? I’d imagine Ben would be over here helping you with stuff all the time.”
“He’s got a baby on the way. They’ve all got stuff going on. It’s just a house. Erin, Ben and Todd did a huge remodel not so long ago.”
She wore a sour look for a moment. “Erin hired people to do the renovation. Which is great, but not what you’re doing at all.” She motioned around the room. “This is all you.”
She pushed every single button he had. Disoriented, he shoved a hand through his hair, moving it back from his face. He was Cope, the easygoing lady-killer, and here he was, sniffing after a woman who already had immense power to pull emotions from him in the most unexpected ways. Mainly because she saw he was more than Cope, the easygoing lady-killer.
“I need a haircut,” he mumbled, feeling suddenly totally out of his depth. Did he even have any depth? Was he just a fraud?
She put a hand over his, sifting through his hair herself, her fingers sure and firm against his scalp, bringing a groan of pleasure from him.
“No. I like it.” The statement was shy, but she meant it. He tipped his chin to see her face, as always, struck by how it appealed to him so deeply. “I mean,” she said, licking her lips, “if you don’t have to cut it for work or anything. It’s just, it suits you.”
“You do something to me, Ella,” he said, moving toward her slowly, not wanting to spook her but needing to kiss her.
“Glad to know I’m not alone,” she said, her lips moving against his just as he made contact.
Her taste wended through him, opening doors he’d welded shut, some he hadn’t even known existed. Like a key.
Forcing himself to take his time, he moved enough to slowly unwind the scarf she wore around her neck loosely so he could put his lips there. When he did, when he finally pressed his mouth, slightly open, to the pale expanse of skin just behind her jaw, she took in air, letting it out as a soft sigh.
She was warm there, and, as he’d hoped, sensitive. She tilted her head back to give him more access, her fingers gripped in the material of his sweater.
Slowly, drunk with her taste, his lips slid over the hollow of her throat, and she stuttered a breath. It wasn’t until he licked over the freckles just below her collarbone that she uttered his name, softly, raggedly.
It was enough to challenge his control, enough to rip his defenses to shreds. Not enough; everything.
She arched, changing their balance, and he went with it, landing on top of her, the long, wiry length of her body beneath him, her breasts pressed to his chest.
Her eyes, which had been closed, slowly opened and focused. With her watching, he bent to lick over the exposed curve of her left breast and then the right. He’d meant to tease her, but got caught in his own trap because he could do nothing but bow his head over her and breathe in before sliding his hands up her sides. In another breath, her breasts were in his palms, and they both groaned.
Cope had to lever up a bit, nipping her bottom lip before turning his attention back to her breasts. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to touch your breasts.”
“Glad you finally got to it,” she said, her voice squeaking. Her grip tightened as he slid his thumbs back and forth over her nipples.
“How are we doing?” he asked.
She yanked at his sweater. “Huh? Shirt off. Please, Andrew, I want to see you.”
Well then, that was a good answer. He moved to kneel above her, her eyes roving over his body as he pulled the sweater over his head and tossed it somewhere behind them.
“Oh.” She sat, taking in the upper body she’d remembered from some backyard party two summers ago. It was better