Havoc - Page 95/114

“I have to fly back in a few hours.”

I pull away far enough to look up at him, and he gazes down at me like he would have flown around the world a thousand times just to hold me like this. “You flew all day just to spend a few hours with me?”

Mike brushes another stray curl away from my face, his fingers threading into the hair behind my ear. “I would have flown all day just to spend a few minutes with you, Hailey.”

He brushes his thumb over my cheek, like he’s memorizing the softness of my skin, and his eyes scan my lips, my nose, my forehead, my chin—as though he’s checking to make sure I’m exactly as he remembers.

I don’t wait for him to finish searching my face before I kiss him. I shift on his mattress and touch my lips to his, and Mike’s fingers in my hair immediately pull me closer. My lips part, and my body melts against him as he unleashes five weeks’ worth of wanting into one slow, consuming, bone-melting kiss.

We should be talking. I should be making the most of the short time he has here. But instead, his leg is wedging between my thighs and I’m tugging him with me as I roll onto my back. I kiss him desperately, not letting either of us up for air, and the unguarded moan that escapes his mouth as I scratch my fingers over his scalp makes my whole body tremble with need. My hips lift to tempt him, and Mike’s hand slides down to catch the underside of my knee, hiking it up so that my leg is wrapped behind his back. He grips my ass, tugging me against the erection I’ve created, and I moan against his mouth as my core turns to molten lava. His lips drop to my neck, and he lavishes the column of my throat with satin kisses that threaten to make me erupt. All I want is for my clothes to disappear, for my skin to blaze against the heat of his body.

Mike’s hand is greedy against my silk shorts, kneading my ass as he makes my panties wet for him. I’m falling apart, and all he’s done is touch me over my clothes.

“Mike,” I beg, and he doesn’t hesitate to give me what I want. His fingers slide up to hook in the waistbands of my shorts and panties, and he tugs them off in one easy movement. His finger slides down through my slick heat, and his mouth claims the gasp that bursts from my lips.

“Is this what you need, baby?” Mike asks as he traces circles around my tight bundle of nerves. It feels like every one of my cells is reaching out to him, begging for his attention, begging to be touched. “Tell me, Hailey,” he gently demands. “I flew across an ocean to take care of you, but you need to tell me what you need.”

“Yes,” I groan, my fingers sinking into the firm muscles of his back. My entire body feels wound too tight, and with every circle Mike draws around my pulsing bud, I wind tighter and tighter and tighter.

“Say it,” he whispers in my ear, and my toes curl beneath his sheets.

“I need you. I need you to touch me.”

Mike gently pinches me between his wet fingertips, stroking me delicately with every slick pinch. My knees begin to quake, and he settles beside me, using his heavy jean-clad leg to pin my right knee to the bed, leaving me open and exposed. “What else?” he says, his warm breath fanning over my ear as he touches and strokes and teases, readying me for him.

“I need you inside me,” I whimper as he drives my body to the edge. I’m teetering on a cliff, clinging to him even as I beg him to push me off it.

Mike presses soft, warm kisses below my ear as he continues priming me, and I can’t help the sounds I make for him. Desperate moans, tiny whimpers, sharp gasps of pleasure. His tongue traces down to the hollow of my collarbone, and my eyes roll back in my head, my muscles aching with tension.

“Not yet,” he says when I’m close to coming. He pulls away and shifts between my legs, raking both hands up my body to strip me of my oversized shirt. He tosses it onto the floor, and then he sits back, letting his hungry eyes rove over my flushed face, my pert breasts, my smooth stomach, my bare sex. When his eyes find mine again, they are full of heat that makes me want to cover my breasts—or play with them.

“You are so fucking sexy,” he says, his fingertips drawing feather-light patterns over the tops of my thighs.

Encouraged by his words, I slide my hands to my breasts, and I fondle them with him watching. I glance at the bulge straining in his jeans, and I bite my lip between my teeth as I pinch my nipples between my fingers, teasing him.

Mike’s voice is rough with lust when he says, “I planned to kiss every single inch of your body when I came home from touring. But I don’t think we have time.” He leans down and kisses my fingertips, coaxing them away from my breasts. “So I think I’ll have to settle for everything from here”—he wraps his soft lips around my nipple, lavishing me with his tongue—“and here”—he slowly drags wet kisses to my other breast, drawing it into his scorching mouth. “To here,” he finishes, meeting my sex with his fingers and applying electric tension. Every nerve in my body sizzles to life as I thread my fingers into his hair, encouraging his mouth to continue exploring my body.

Mike carries through with his promise, spoiling every inch of me from my breasts to the junction of my thighs. He watches me watch him as he strokes his tongue over my sex, nibbling and kissing and suckling until I’m nothing but a whimpering mess of need on his bed. When I think I can take no more, he pulls away from me to kick off his jeans and boxers, and I force myself to be coherent enough to watch as he pulls off his T-shirt.

My eyes feast on his chiseled biceps, his sculpted shoulders, his hard chest, his flat stomach, and then he’s settling over me and I can feel him between my legs. He kisses me feverishly while his swollen head presses against my sex, and when I’m moaning against his mouth and arcing against him, he finally begins pushing inside me.