Craving Him Page 6

She swallowed a lump in her throat, slowly turning to face me. “It’s just . . . maybe we aren’t compatible in New York.”

Whoa. Where was this coming from? “Of course we are. We know we’re compatible physically, emotionally, and intellectually, so why should it matter what city we’re in? I’ll move us both to Paris tomorrow if you think our relationship works better there.”

Her mouth softened, curling into a smile, and I brought her hand to my lips, leaving a damp kiss there.

I couldn’t seem to stop touching her. My hand rested against her thigh, clad in black leggings. I wanted to kiss whoever invented these body-hugging things. I bet her ass would look amazing. I wanted to peel them down her legs with my teeth, exposing inch by creamy inch of her skin. “Will you come home with me?”

Her eyes lifted to mine and she blinked in rapid succession, thinking it over. “Just to talk?”

I couldn’t lie to her. Not with those pretty grayish-blue eyes locked on mine, looking so sweet and innocent. “We can talk if you want. But I want you to stay the night.”

She bit down on her bottom lip, her teeth leaving an impression in the plump flesh. Shit. It was getting me hard. “Okay, I can stay over again . . . but I was serious when I said we needed to take our time, date, and go slow.”

I trailed my hand higher up her thigh, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “If you won’t let me f**k you, can I at least taste your pu**y, baby?”

Emmy let out a tiny whimper and her gaze shot forward to Henry. He wasn’t paying us any attention. I paid him enough to forget whatever he’d seen and overheard throughout the years. “He’s not listening,” I whispered.

“Ben . . .” she groaned, squirming against the leather seat.

I absolutely f**king loved how I could get her hot so easily. I loved watching her response to me. This was way better than texting with her. “We’re dating, baby, we’re allowed to have some fun, aren’t we?” I ran my nose along the curve of her neck, my warm breath causing her skin to respond by breaking out in chill bumps.

She swallowed and gripped the seat beside her.

“Henry, just one stop. My place,” I instructed.


Ben lived in a historic district in the city with rows of beautifully ornate Victorian homes that had long ago been split into apartments. His was in a quaint redbrick building with a doorman and a red carpet on the sidewalk leading into the foyer. It was very classy and felt safe in an upscale area popular with small families and wealthy bachelors. It suited him perfectly.

We thanked Henry and greeted the night doorman before heading for the elevator.

Once we reached Ben’s apartment he tugged me inside, not bothering to turn on the lights. He pressed my back against the wall and lowered his mouth to mine. The moonlight drifting in through the big picture windows and Ben’s muscular body pressing into mine caused a moan to escape my throat. He deepened the kiss, his tongue stroking mine so hypnotically. His hips pressed forward, pinning me against the wall, and his hands roamed down my sides, gliding over my hips.

“Fuck, baby, are you trying to kill me with these leggings?”

I didn’t know he’d find my leggings sexy, I’d just wanted to be comfortable and cozy.

“See what you do to me?” Ben took my hand and pressed it into his pants-covered erection.

Holy hell. That thing was ready to burst through his zipper. That had to be painful.

“Turn around, let me see your ass.” His hands captured my hips and he spun me around.

My cheeks blossomed in heat. I’d forgotten how direct he was, and how hot I found that. He turned me into a horny mess with a single statement. Waiting and going slow was going to be harder than I ever imagined.

He filled his hands with my backside and released a strangled groan. “This ass is mine.” He pushed my sweater up out of the way and slowly peeled the leggings down over my bottom and thighs. He pressed a kiss to each cheek then spun me around to face him.

Still planted on his knees, Ben looked up at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Can I taste you, baby?”

I nodded, silently.

He pressed damp kisses along my inner thigh, his breath tickling me and making me squirm. His hands captured my hips so he could hold me in place while he slowly tortured me. Soft, tender lips tenderly caressed my thighs as he moved closer to my center. No way was I fighting this. I could already feel myself getting wet and he’d hardly touched me. Removing his hands from my hips, Ben pulled my panties down my legs, leaving them at my calves. I was still wearing my boots so this would have to do. He pressed forward, lightly kissing the top of my pubic bone.

Seeing Ben on his knees before me, worshipping my lady parts, was the most glorious sight in the world. I planted a hand in his dark hair and let out a breathy cry. “Bennn . . .”

His mouth covered me, greedily licking my folds, finding my clit and stroking it again and again in a brutal rhythm.

Holy crap!

My knees buckled and I nearly collapsed, but Ben caught me before I ended up in a tangled heap on the floor. Good thing, too, because I was sure to look like a moron with my panties and leggings shoved around my ankles. He lifted me into his arms and carried me to his bed, depositing me safely on the edge. He helped me remove my boots, pulling them off one by one and letting them drop to the floor with a thud.

I knew I’d told him we needed to slow our physical relationship—and I’d meant it—but in this moment slowing down was the last thing I wanted.

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