The Hook Up
Page 27

Drew laughs harder.
“Don’t you dare make stick jokes,” I warn through a laugh.
“I’m too busy trying to get my ass out of the steering wheel.” His shoulder crushes my chest as he wiggles, laughing so hard—he’s as clumsy as I am. “Fuck, why did you not put the seat back?”
“No. Ow. Would you move?” I yank at my skirt but his thigh is pinning my calf to the driver’s seat. “I wasn’t thinking that far ahead.”
“Obviously. Hold up.” His ribs shove in my face as he bends over the driver’s seat. There’s a loud click and then we’re falling as the seat zips back. Drew twists, landing on the seat, his arm wrapping about my waist and pulling me with him. I end up on his lap with a thud, and Drew’s pained grunt. My bent leg is awkwardly braced on his chest and putting me off balance.
“Seriously, Jones,” he says, still a bit breathless from our laughing fit, “if you wanted to get in my lap, you only had to ask.” He puts a hand to my back, keeping the steering wheel from digging into my spine.
My cheeks hurt from grinning. “You caught me. It was all part of an evil plan to turn us into a human pretzel. Watch your head. Leg incoming.”
He ducks his chin as I lift my leg up and over his head, effectively straddling his lap with my knees tucked under his arms in the tight space. Not very comfortable, but who am I kidding? I like where I am.
The position, however, bunches my skirt around my hips. Instantly, his free hand lands on my exposed thigh. “You cold?” he asks quietly, as he begins to rub it to keep me warm.
I shake my head, my voice having fled. How can I be cold with his firm, heated torso this close to mine? His heartbeat is steady and hard beneath my palm.
“Did I hurt you anywhere?” He eases me closer still, until my br**sts pillow his chest.
“No.” Face to face, all I can see is Drew colored pale blue by moonlight, his eyes gleaming and dark as they study me. His gaze lowers to my lips and stays there, as his grip becomes firmer, laden with intent. Heat invades me swift and strong.
His mouth. So close. Close enough that our breath mingles. I love his mouth, the lush shape of it, and I don’t even know what it tastes like, how it feels. His fingers press into the flesh of my thigh, as though he needs to hold onto something, and my gaze flicks up to meet his.
A pained expression there, and a plea.
Drew will never take from me. Not unless he knows I want it too. Tenderness mixes with the pervasive heat inside of me, a heady stew that has me sinking further into his embrace. Carefully, I trace his jaw, the texture like fine sandpaper against my fingertips.
“Anna.” It’s whisper of sound.
Holding his gaze, I lean in. My lips brush his. So gently it’s barely a touch. But it’s everything. I feel it down to my toes. Drew sucks in a sharp breath, his body going tight. So I do it again. Stronger. More sure. Clinging just a bit to his lower lip.
And then he groans. His fingers thread into my hair, clutching tight as he tilts his head and kisses me back. It isn’t hard or frantic. It’s a warm, melting exploration, as if we’ve fallen into the middle of a kiss, tongues sliding, lips melding and parting in a slow rhythm. And I ignite, burning brighter than the sun. Sensation, want, need, surge through me on a moan that’s lost in his mouth.
Drew shivers. His fingertips run along my neck, my cheek, and back down again, as his lips nuzzle and suck on mine. Going deeper, having more of me every time. And every time my heart clenches just a bit harder within my chest.
Dizziness swamps me. There is no up or down, just Drew. Drew’s mouth. His taste and his heat. I want to sink into him, drown in his touch. I tremble, whimpering in frustration as I rock against his erection and open my mouth wider for his kiss. He holds me tighter. Grounding me.
“It’s better,” he says inside a kiss.
“Better?” My hands roam the plains of his chest, the rounded swells of his shoulders. I’ve missed the feel of him against me.
“Kissing you. It’s better than I imagined.”
I hadn’t let myself imagine. I touch his cheek, and our gazes collide. My breath grows short. My heart actually hurts. “Drew.” I don’t know what else to say. But it seems enough for him right now. He holds me like I’m precious to him, like he wants to fuse us together.
“Come home with me,” he whispers between kisses that are growing more urgent, fierce. His skin is damp, his body shaking as hard as mine. “I need you, Anna. I need you in my bed.”
I can barely keep my eyes open. My clothes smother me. Sweat tickles down my back, and my thighs tremble with need. And I can’t stop kissing him. Deep, light, hard, soft. It’s too much. I knew it would be. I am lost in him.
“Anna…” His voice is weak now. Rough as his breathing.
“Yes,” I manage. “Yes.”
Pressing his forehead to mine, he nods once, his fingertips still roaming over my face as if he needs to memorize it by touch. “Okay.” Another seeking kiss. “Okay.”
19
I STAY IN his lap as he drives us home. It’s stupid and dangerous but neither of us are thinking very clearly now. It’s not an option to move off of him, to let him go. Drew’s arm remains wrapped around my waist, his big hand clamped on my hip as if he’s afraid I might change my mind, try to escape.
I don’t. I won’t. I’m too far gone now. I’m weak and needy for him. So he drives, and my head rests on his shoulder as my fingers trace his neck, touch the spot where his pulse is a rapid tattoo. He holds me tighter, presses his cheek against the top of my head, as he maneuvers the car down darkened neighborhood streets.
His heart beats as fast as my own. We’re almost humming with anxious anticipation. If we don’t get there soon, I know he’ll pull over and take me in the back seat, cramped or not. I almost make the suggestion, I’m so achy for him, but the car swerves into a driveway and then lurches to a halt.
He’s got the car turned off and the parking brake on in seconds. The door wrenches open, and somehow we’re out. I’m in his arms. I don’t even know how he’s accomplished swinging both himself and my body weight out of the car with such ease, nor do I protest that he’s carrying me. I’m pretty sure if he puts me down right now, we’d both fall.
His house is a small craftsman style bungalow with a peaked roof that creates a wide front porch. Drew makes short work of the front steps. I burrow my nose into his neck and cling with my legs around his waist as he fumbles with his keys before the glass-pained door. Then we’re stumbling inside.
I get a glimpse of white walls, high ceilings, and dark floors. A retro 30s metal dome table lamp casts a warm haze over a leather couch and chair and teak credenza. This isn’t a college guy’s hangout. It’s a home. Framed and matted photos hang from the walls. That’s all I see of it. Drew captures my mouth with his once more, his grip on my ass tight and sure as he strides across the room.
His room is cool, quiet, the mellow glow of another table lamp limning everything in golden light. Drew sets me down at the foot of his bed before attacking my buttons, his fingers fumbling and desperate, his mouth never leaving mine.
My knuckles press into his abdomen as I rip open his jeans, shoving them down in my haste. The waistband of his boxer briefs snag over his hard cock, and he curses. He frees himself then reaches for me. Everything becomes a blur of flying, discarded clothes and messy kisses. And then the world lifts away. In his arms one second, and sinking into a cool, thick down comforter the next.
Drew climbs over me. Hot, smooth skin slides over mine. Hard muscles. Heavy, dense flesh. And everywhere he touches, I ignite.
We don’t stop kissing. I don’t think I’m capable of stopping. I’m starved for his mouth.
He moves between my legs, and I tilt my h*ps to give him better access. Now. I want him now. Hard. Fast. But suddenly he slows us down, suckling my lower lip before he raises his head. Arms bracketing me, he looks into my eyes, his fingers playing with my hair.
His lids lower a fraction, but he doesn’t close his eyes. “Every night,” he says. “Every single night I’ve thought about you being here. Just like this.”
I shiver. Every single night I’ve feared being here. Like this. Because I wanted it so very much.
Skin to skin, we lie, trembling and sweating. Between our pressed bellies, his c**k throbs hot and firm. I struggle to breathe. My palms skim over his narrow, tight waist, as I try for a light tone. “Now that you have me here, what are you going to do to me?”
Drew’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smile. “Keep you here.”
Hell.
Just when I fear emotion might cripple me, he moves, canting his h*ps until the rounded tip of his c**k nudges against my opening. My attention zeroes in on it, that spot where everything has gone so hot and needy that my sex clenches. Holding my gaze, he slides the tip in. Then the bastard stills.
“Drew.” Squirming, I try to take more.
He only smiles and holds steady, a solid plank of unyielding muscle. “Do you want me?”
“You know I do.” Every substantial inch. But that’s not what he’s asking, and we both know it.
“All of me?” His expression turns serious, his voice a ghost in the silence. Oh, but he rocks his hips, pushing in just a bit more, an inducement designed to make me insane. “Do you want all of me, Anna?”
I can feel my heart beating against his. Twin steady, quick thrums that match pace. I could say no. Retreat to safety. And it would end the best thing that has ever happened to me. With a shaking hand, I reach out and skim my fingers along the damp hair at his temple. “Yes.”
He swallows audibly, his body trembling with something that feels like relief against my skin. “Glad we’ve got that settled.” He moves to thrust but halts again. This time with a curse that mingles with mine.
“Now you’re just being cruel,” I wail.
“I’m not…Fuck.” He pants. “I left the condoms in the car.”
“In the car?” I squirm, barely able to think. “What the hell are they doing in there?”
His breath gusts over my cheeks on a pained laugh. “It’s not like I need them in here, Jones.” He tilts his head and kisses me at a different angle, all open mouth and wet. When he talks again, it’s a thick whisper. “I’d have left them at your house, but it seemed presumptuous.”
God, I even love the way he murmurs ‘presumptuous’ against my mouth. My lips vibrate with it, and I lick them, before licking his. I’m so hot, so turned on, I can’t stand it. I’m so empty it hurts. “Forget the condom,” I say in a strangled voice. “Just… just f**k me.”
A tremor lights over him, and I feel the head of his c**k twitch. Honey-brown eyes stare down at me. “You sure?”
We both know it’s a matter of believing each other when we say we’re clean, and trusting that we’re exclusive, of Drew trusting me when I say that I’m on the pill. Do I trust him? Yes. Am I nervous? Hell yes.
I swallow hard, resisting the temptation to move. “Unless you don’t want to?” I won’t hold it against him if he wants a condom. Never. I start to tell him that when he replies.
His answer is a kiss, a dirty-sexy, wet f**k of my mouth, as he thrusts his c**k in deep. That thick invasion, it fills me up, makes me gasp.
“Holy hell.” He groans. “You feel so good.” And then he’s pumping, groaning low as he moves. My focus narrows to the smell of his skin, the feel of him pushing in and pulling out of my swollen sex, the near helpless sounds he makes with each thrust.
His thumb finds the tight bead of my nipple and rolls it. Combined with the way he licks along the inside of my upper lip, the simple action is almost indecent. It shakes me to the core.
“Oh, f**k,” I gasp into his mouth.
An orgasm steals over me, not with violence, but a slow, swelling wash of heat that has me shivering and whimpering into his open mouth. I’m weak with it, my arms falling limp at my sides as it takes me.
“That’s it,” he whispers against my lips. “Let it ride.” He cups my cheek, his hand big, warm, solid, as he watches me come undone, his eyes burning.
Helpless, I grab hold of his hair, as another roll of sensation hits me.
“Drew. I...” I can’t breathe. “I need…” You.
“I know,” he says as if hearing my silent plea. “I know.”
He captures my hand, forcing me to stay with him as he plucks my nipple and grinds his hips. I’m at the precipice when he loses control. A shudder runs over him and then he levers himself up on his arms and pounds into me. Flesh slaps against flesh. The impact makes my hipbones ache. I’m so wet, so messy wet, that every sound is magnified. And I love it.
“You’re so f**king perfect,” he rasps, moving his h*ps with a swivel, raw and greedy, like he’s rutting against me, and my world goes dark and violent with lust. I’m coming again, the sensation punching into me, making me arch up, my h*ps chasing his, my hands clawing at the hard swells of his shoulders.
Drew lets go with a long, low groan, and a flood of warmth fills me up.
For a moment we lay quiet, Drew curled around me, his cheek against mine, the corners of our lips touching as we pant. Slowly, I come back to myself, aware of his fingers stroking my shoulder and the pulse of his c**k within me.
It’s so quiet that when he whispers in my ear, my whole body shivers from the sound. “You’ve destroyed me, Anna Jones.”
I know exactly what he means, because he’s destroyed me too.