Some Sort of Love (Happy Crazy Love #3)(16)


by Melanie Harlow

By the time she got to now, I was pulling out my wallet and tossing bills on the bar.

She stood up and threw her jacket over her arm, and I grabbed her hand as we raced through the bar, out the door, and up onto the sidewalk. “I’m parked over there,” she said breathlessly.

“I’m the other way.”

She gave me her address, and I took her head in both hands, kissing her hard before turning around to run down the street. No joke, I ran.

It was possibly the most uncool thing I have ever done in my life, but fuck it, I wanted to do things right this go around and that took time. I had maybe an hour, and I wasn’t about to waste a precious minute of it walking to my car.

That was one more minute I could have making her scream, and I intended to use it.

The way Levi raced down the street reminded me of the way my sisters and I used to tear down the stairs on Christmas morning to see if Santa had come. I couldn’t help giggling as I hurried to my car as quickly as I could without tripping on the sidewalk in my heels. I was just as anxious as he was, but skinned knees were not sexy.

As fast as I flew home, Levi must have driven even faster, because a black Audi SUV was already parked in front of my building when I pulled up, and he jumped out of it a second later. Deciding not to bother with the garage, I parked next to it, and Levi came around to open my car door. As soon as I stood up, he grabbed me, crushing his lips to mine, his hands threading through my hair. Pushing me back against my car, he pressed his lower body into me, and I felt the bulge in his pants through my dress as his tongue stroked inside my mouth, and it made me want to wrap my legs around him.

“Inside,” I whispered. “Or we’re going to give my neighbors a show they weren’t expecting and don’t deserve.”

At the front door, he stood behind me while I fumbled with the lock, kissing the back of my neck and unzipping my dress while my shaky hands tried desperately to get the key in. The moment it turned and the door opened, I moved inside the dark hallway and turned around, dropping everything I held and throwing my arms around his neck.

Our mouths came together, hot and impatient, our tongues meeting between open lips. He pushed the door shut behind him and kept moving forward. “Where,” he growled.

“This way.” Without breaking the kiss, I walked backward down the hall and into my first-floor bedroom. Along the way, Levi shed his dark brown jacket and shoes, and I kicked off my heels. Inside my room, where the shades were pulled and a bedside lamp glowed softly, he lifted my dress over my head and tossed it onto my dresser.

His eyes, black as night and ravenous enough to make me shiver, roved over my entire body. My wardrobe might be conservative, but I had a small collection of exquisite, provocative French lingerie—one of my favorite little secrets—and beneath my dress I’d worn a beautiful black lace bra and panty set.

“Jesus, you wore that to work?”

I smiled. “Yes, but I kept my dress on there.”

He ran his hands down the sides of my arms, making my whole body shiver. “Cold?”

“No. Just anxious.” I slid my hands up the front of his shirt and started on the buttons.

“Jillian, wait.” He grabbed my hands, pinning them to his chest. “I want this so badly, but I don’t want to—” He broke off, his face uncertain. “I feel like I’m always rushing you. I told myself not to act like a fucking caveman tonight, and just take you out for a nice drink, and here I am in your bedroom tearing your clothes off.”

“You’re not rushing me.” Rising up on tiptoe, I kissed him softly, my body aching for his touch. “I want this just as badly as you do, Levi. Maybe more.”

“Impossible.” Letting my hands go, Levi pushed one bra strap aside and kissed my bare shoulder, the other hand running down my side, over my hip, then up my inner thigh. “I could hardly concentrate at work. If you see a vacation house shaped like an erection in Petoskey, you’ll know that was the one I worked on this week.”

Laughing gently, I slipped one hand around his lower back and let the other slide down the front of his jeans and over the tight, hard bulge threatening to bust the seam. “Funny, I was thinking about an erection all week too. Bet it was the same one.”

He groaned as he edged his fingers beneath the lace of my panties and felt how wet I was.

“I fucking love the lace,” he whispered. “I almost want to leave it on.”

“So leave it on.”

“Next time.” He bent down to drag my panties down my legs. “I want to see you this time. Twice now, you’ve made me come without even seeing your naked body…and those are just the times you know about. But the pearls…” He straightened and touched the necklace I wore. “The pearls can stay.”

I stepped out of my panties as he reached behind me, unhooking my bra with one hand. I let it fall as his hand slid between my legs again. His hands, his hands…I couldn’t stop thinking about them.

But it wasn’t only his hands I wanted. I had to get him undressed—how the hell did he keep distracting me?

I went to work on his shirt buttons again as his mouth slanted over mine, his fingers stroking my clit. But seconds later my hands went still as he penetrated me with one fingertip. I moved my hips, trying to get him to give me more, but instead of pushing deeper, he rubbed the silky wetness over my clit in firm little circles, his other hand sliding up the back of my neck and then fisting in my hair.

As he tightened his grip, sharp needles of pain prickled across my scalp, in perfect contrast to the pleasure he wrought between my legs. He slid two fingers all the way inside me, slowly, easily. My hands curled into claws, grasping the front of his shirt.

He began to whisper against my mouth. “There are so many things I want to do to you. I want to make you come just like this, with only my hand.”

“Yes…” On tiptoe, I rode his hand as pent-up desire billowed inside me, desperate to break free. I was so close already—

“Levi,” I said softly, part cry, part plea. How pathetic was it that I was about to come already? I hadn’t even gotten his shirt off! But it wasn’t my fault—he knew just how to touch me, just what to say, just how to work his hands and lips and tongue on my skin…it wasn’t like a first time at all.

“Then I want you on that bed so I can get my mouth on you.” He kissed me again, lazily, luxuriously, his tongue stroking mine, and I thought about that talented tongue on other parts of my body. His fingers worked faster, and I closed my eyes, giving in to it, to him. My legs tensed up, my fists tight in his shirt. “And then I want my cock inside you,” he whispered. “I want it all.”