The corner of his mouth lifted, but he didn’t laugh. Before she could react, his hand was on her back and the ocean-blue strap to her top, tied into a droopy bow, gave way as he jerked it loose.
“Would you like that? If I took my shirt off? Do you like me, Josie?”
Um, that would be a yes. Her bikini crept forward, gravity urging her breasts out of the loosened restraints, top inching up, stopping only when the fabric caught on the underside of her breasts. Josie was very, very aware that once the bikini top gave, it was an ensemble that would only work in two circumstances. A topless beach on the French Riviera or a strip club. Which made her wonder how good it would feel to imitate an exotic dancer’s moves in Houston’s lap.
Minor shifting caused the triangles to give up their valiant hold and bounce up over her nipples like the retraction of a bungee jump. Houston let out a rush of air, his head shaking just slightly.
Josie swallowed the suddenly enormous amount of saliva collecting in her cheeks. “You know I like you.”
“Put the damn scissors down and stand up.”
“I’m not finished. There are still two one-inch segments to remove.” But she shot up anyway when he prodded her with his toe again, sharp pangs of fiery desire darting through her at his nudging touch and demanding tone of voice. The raw need on his face set her arousal to a razor-sharp edge.
“Leave the sutures for later.” He rose off the couch and flexed his leg, bending it several times and brushing his kneecap right across her, on that last bit of intact bikini, the wet bottoms that were clinging to her pussy.
“Ah, much better, even if you’re not finished.”
A gasp ripped out of her mouth when his hard knee nudged against her again. A wicked, acquiescent, encouraging kind of gasp that had her dropping her eyelids in both embarrassment and poignant pleasure, as he forced her legs apart.
She teetered on the edge of the coffee table. “Houston, are you sure we can do this? I don’t want to hurt your leg or anything. Are you in pain?”
Not that he would admit it. And not that she thought he was. But she didn’t want to hurt him.
“The only pain I have is in my trunks from wanting you.” The indignation in his voice was real, not exaggerated.
Josie bent her legs and slipped back to the floor, with more tumbling than grace, landing right between his knees, wishing she’d thought to pull her top off since it was swinging across her breasts like bizarre nylon jewelry. But she ignored it.
Because for once, she wanted to throwhimoff balance, make him stumble and trip on his words and quake with need the way she did. Make him forget about his mother’s marriage and his father and his torn-up hand and understand that he could deny it or call it whatever he wanted to, but there was much more between them than explosive sex.
“Good. Then I can do this.”
She reached inside his still damp swim trunks and touched him, smooth and half-hard.
“Josie.” He took a step back and was halted by the couch.
Josie smiled, pressing a kiss above his waistband, running her tongue along the tuft of dark hair there. With more courage than confidence, she pulled the trunks down to his knees.
“Josie,” he repeated, sounding surprised and definitely on the edge, which renewed her determination and aroused her so completely that she was breathing hard before she’d even touched him.
Breasts easing forward and brushing his thighs, she lifted her arms and took him into her unsteady grasp. Felt him thicken and jerk beneath her fingers. Felt the intensity of his desire for her.
Holding the smooth length of him with two hands, she pressed her lips right on the tip of his shaft and allowed herself a little lick.
He shuddered. “Crap, don’t do that.”
She licked again.
Knees squeezed her shoulders. “Damn it, stop that.”
Licks gave way to gentle sucking. God, it felt good to do this, to take him into her mouth and taste with intimate strokes of her tongue.
“My mom might come up here looking for us.”
His voice hitched and through the corner of her eye, Josie saw the fingers on his uninjured hand dig into the couch, searching for a hold. The tone of desperation in his voice amused her. He was the one who couldn’t stay on task with the sutures earlier. Now he expected her to believe he was worried about getting caught?
Houston just didn’t like being in the passenger seat.
Lick, lick.