Nancy.
Sliding her curvy svelte body into a silver dress with straps so thin they’re non-existent.
She raises the thin straps over her shoulders, pulling before she looks over at me, finally noticing me.
One hand near her collarbone, another at her shoulder, she gives a small grunt before her lips finally break into a small “O.”
She gasps.
“Oh my God,” she breathes low. “You almost scared me. But I guess I’m glad you’re here.” She glances at the dress on her frame. “Can you help me with this? I’m struggling with getting it on.”
And I can’t register what she’s saying.
I can’t register anything but the desire drumming through my system at seeing her here. Like this.
Half-clothed. And looking to me for help.
I step inside the door, shutting it soundly behind me, before I rush over immediately, my hands reaching for her straps.
I pull them gently towards me before capturing her mouth with mine.
Chapter 12
NANCY
God must have known what he was doing when he put the apple out for Eve to eat.
Or, rather, the devil.
Yeah, the devil. He was a smart one.
Because he understood that temptation—in all its nuances—is the sweetest flavor there is. Or the sexiest.
Because Andrew Fletcher in all his male glory and valor might be the sexiest flavor I have ever tasted.
I’ve never known a better taste than the one I get when Andrew shuts the door to our shared bedroom in his family’s Connecticut estate, his eyes hungry as he crosses the room, lifts me off my feet and plants his mouth on mine.
It’s surprising.
So shocking I almost choke on my tongue. But he saves me…by sucking on the same tongue and taking it into his mouth to stroke it in the sexiest kiss of my freaking life.
He tastes of toasted almonds—a sweet coffee flavor tainted with the flavors of dark amaretto and deep cherry, and I cling to him for dear life, my fingertips digging into his shoulders as he wraps his arms around my waist.
Head back, mouth descending, he holds me in the air—weightless, until I’m breathless.
A heaving breathless mess in his arms.
Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I have enough awareness to pull back for a second and stare into his eyes, which are filled with longing.
Enough longing to almost make me lose my senses again.
I wet my lips.
“Wait, wait, wait. What—What are we doing here?”
“Something I’ve been thinking about all day,” he answers, his deep voice low and thunderous across my skin. “Can you honestly say you haven’t felt the same way?”
My head swims and I clutch him tighter. “I have. I’ve been thinking about this all day, actually. Still doesn’t make it right.”
“Doesn’t make it wrong, either.”
“Doesn’t it? I mean…we’re not exactly a couple, Andrew.”
He grins slowly. “I don’t think there’s an actual definition for what we are.”
And suddenly Sophia’s words from the night of the fundraiser echo back to me.
There is no definition for what Andrew, and I are. And I can’t decide if that scares me…or thrills me beyond belief.
I do know what thrills me in this moment, however.
And it’s the feel of Andrew’s hands along my thighs, his long fingers wrapping around each leg.
It’s erotic—the way we stand here. In the middle of the room.
The A-line skirt of my silver dress lifted a little over my hips. The thin straps slipping down over my shoulders and down my arms.
And with Andrew staring at me like he is, those pale blue eyes pools of raw desire, I can’t help myself.
I hold onto sense with both hands, praying it won’t slip.
I start again. “Andrew, I—”
“Talk too much.”
“What?” I blink, nearly screeching.
“You heard me. You talk too much. You don’t let yourself feel. You’re always thinking. Plotting. Planning. Organizing.” He gazes down at my lips. “For once, I just want to see you let yourself go. Let yourself just…be.” His gaze flickers back up. “Do you think you can do that?”
I nod, not even realizing I’m doing exactly that until Andrew kisses me again, his full lips insistent as they prod mine open, stroking inside.
God, I’ve never been kissed like this.
Not in all my years of dating.
And especially not with Eric.
Andrew kisses me with a worship I didn’t know existed, as if every touch is somehow sacred, and I lose myself in the reverence of his mouth, the slow persistent way he makes every angle, every ounce of pressure, better than the one before it.
Against my better mind, I moan, not recognizing my own voice as it sounds between us.
Andrew’s answer is a groan—a rough, masculine reflection of mine.
And my body’s response to it is nothing but another exhibit of how we fit, another example to show that sparks have always gone off between us—these tiny detonations of snark and frustration and emotion…
They were never imagined.
In fact, they are an epiphany, an awakening that’s as tangible as it is real.
Our bodies are shadows of one another, feeding off each other—matching one another’s moan for moan, lick for lick…touch for touch.
My entire body shakes as Andrew reaches around, grabbing handfuls of my ass, his fingers molding into my skin.
He says my name.
“Jesus, Nancy… I can’t tell you how often I’ve been dreaming of doing just this. How much you’ve dominated every thought in my mind for what feels like an eternity. And even with you here, it doesn’t feel fucking real.” His lips lower, kissing my neck, which grows tender from his touch. “You feel fucking incredible.”
His words are a salve—smoothing away the fear I had going into this weekend. And I give in, completely, capitulating myself over to Andrew as he leads me towards the bed, laying me out on its surface.
My eyes close, lost to all sensation.
Even as he lifts the A-line of my silver dress, his touch tickling beneath.
Laid out on the thousand-count cotton sheets, I open my eyes, just enough to see Andrew’s gaze over my body as if starved…
And I’m the meal.
My breath catches in my throat as
