I groan into the kiss, pushing up, urging her hips into a deep wave over me. We build a rolling rhythm that collides our bodies over and over again, kindling for a fire. My hands slip under the T-shirt and find her skin, velvet and sleek stretched over her back. I hesitate at the clasp of her bra, not sure I should. Never breaking the contact of our kiss, she reaches behind and undoes the clasp herself. The freed weight of her breasts spills against my chest, and I push my tongue deeper into her mouth, so deep her breath catches like it might be too much. Like I might be too much, and I want that because she is too much for me to take in all at once. The vastness of her spirit and the urgency of her passion. I taste this night in the sweet recesses of her mouth, the dessert and the daring.
She breaks our kiss to tug the shirt over her head and ease her arms from the loops of her bra. My mouth waters at the sight of the dark nipples tipping her breasts like crown jewels.
“Touch me.” There’s begging in her voice I can’t resist. I brush my thumb over her, watching her breast peak and tighten. She draws a sharp breath. “Taste.”
I will.
My lips part, poised to accept the intimate invitation.
My phone rings, splitting the quiet.
Her eyes widen, find mine. I would ignore the call, but it’s Evan’s ringtone.
Shit.
Worst timing everrrrrr.
Not only did he ruin my vibe, but he reminded me of all the reasons this shouldn’t happen—yet.
“I need to get this. It’s Evan.”
“Oh.” She nods, grabbing the shirt and slipping it over her nakedness. “Alright.”
She moves off me, glancing down at my dick tenting my jeans. She licks her lips and all I can imagine is that kiss-swollen mouth wrapped around my cock, and Evan can go to hell. Unthinking, I palm her hip and draw her back to me.
The ring comes again.
Dammit, Evan.
I pull the phone from my pocket and ease off the couch. She stands there a moment as if waiting for me to change my mind. If I don’t walk away, I will, so I go to the fireplace and turn my back on her, resting my elbows on the mantel.
“What’s up?” I ask Evan.
“Uh, happy Thanksgiving to you, too. You still want to come over? Drink and dream some? My dad gave me these Cuban cigars at dinner today. My dude. I got one with your name on it. You on your way?”
Behind me, spoons clank in the bowls as Neevah walks to the kitchen, rinses the dishes and slots them into the dishwasher. I look over my shoulder to find her turned away, hands gripping the edge of the sink, slim shoulders lifting and falling with deep breaths. She appears as discomposed as I feel, but she’s younger, not just in years, but in experience. This is her first movie, and she gets into a relationship with the director? It’s not wise. It could be a repeat mistake for me, yes, but one I could easily weather. There are passes I get because I’m a man, because I have power she doesn’t. Because I tell stories that make people money. She doesn’t have that track record yet. She has no idea that we could crush each other. That beyond this door and this feeling, her career, her whole life, could be jeopardized by what we do tonight.
But I know, and I won’t let her risk it.
“Yeah, I’m on my way,” I tell Evan, pulling the car keys from my pocket.
“Cool. By the pool. I’ll light the fire pit and you can tell me all about your lonely turkey dinner.”
“Bet.” I let out a brief laugh and disconnect.
Neevah turns around, leaning against the sink, braless, her nipples still hard and round and high through the thin cotton T-shirt.
“You’re leaving?”
I walk to the kitchen slowly, giving myself time to overcome the violent objections of my dick. When I reach the arched doorway, I stop. If I touch her, this blows up again, and I’m bending her over that sink, shoving that skirt up and pushing her panties to the side. I don’t want our first time to be like that.
And I make a decision. There will be a first time for us, but not tonight.
“Yeah, I’m gonna go,” I tell her, my voice still scratched and rough.
“Did I do something wrong?” She looks down, twists her fingers at her waist. “I’m embarrassed. I didn’t mean to make you feel—”
“You didn’t make me feel anything I wasn’t already feeling.” I walk forward, risking everything to reassure her. I lift her chin and make her meet my eyes. “It wasn’t anything I didn’t already want. That I still want.”
“Then don’t go.” She reaches up, wrapping her hand around my forearm. “We can—”