"I'm definitely enjoying myself," I said.
"I can tell," he said.
He took my nipple between his fingertips and rolled it, making me arch and gasp.
I reached out for the buttons of his work shirt and started to undo them, my fingers fumbling as he distracted me with his own.
"Just get it off," I finally said.
He pulled his hands away from my body reluctantly and started working on the buttons, faster than I was managing.
"I want to see you so badly," I said, staring as the tight white undershirt was revealed.
He smiled and leaned forward to kiss my neck as he continued to unbutton his shirt, his hands working quickly between our bodies.
"Couch?" he asked.
"What?" I asked.
He grinned, pulling the overshirt off over his head.
"Do you want to go to the couch? It's right over there and we'd be more comfortable," he said.
I hopped off his lap and turned to find a better surface for getting to know his body.
"Oh, yes," I heard him say, before I squealed as he picked me up and tossed me gently over his shoulder.
I hadn't been picked up like that by a lover before, and I laughed and squealed as I hung, eye-level with his ass.
He navigated the divider between the kitchen and living room and crossed to the couch in a few long strides, tossing me onto the soft sofa and immediately covering my body with his own, trapping me beneath him and leaning down to suck at my collarbone.
He pulled off for a moment and looked me in the eye.
"This okay?" he asked.
"God, yes," I said. I squirmed against him, my hands roaming over his body, which was almost firmer than I could have imagined. Every muscle was defined, and I traced them with little sweeps of my fingers. He wasn't just lean and strong, I discovered. He had to work half-naked most of the year, he didn't have the farmer's tan that I half-expected to find under his clothing.
I was so lucky. Clint was over six feet of bronzed perfection, and he was exploring my body with fascination and delight.
My need for him was reaching a fever pitch, and I reached down between our bodies to find his belt, and started working on the supple leather to get him naked.
He reacted as though I'd poured cold water over him, climbing off of me,
breathing heavily, and shutting his eyes.
"Too far," he muttered.
"What?" I asked, sitting up on his couch, naked from the waist up.
He headed back to the kitchen without a word.
I sat still and quiet, confused and hurt. No longer comfortable, I crossed my arms over my chest.
"What the hell?" I asked, as he came back, carrying our discarded clothing.
He passed me my shirt and bra and sat down on the other end of the couch, looking sheepish as he started to get dressed again.
"I'm sorry," he said, "That wasn't fair to you. I've never lost control of myself like that before."