Never had she thought Lane lusted after her back then. When she’d been dating his brother and she and West had thought Lane was a jerk.
Well, she hadn’t thought he was that big of a jerk. More like a hot jerk. A sexy jerk. A jerk she couldn’t stop thinking about even while she was dating his brother. Talk about feeling guilty . . .
“Dead serious. Felt like shit for it too.”
He hung his head, his warm breath wafting across her chest, making her nipples harder. She really wanted to feel his mouth on her nipples. They were extra sensitive, and she figured she’d go up in flames upon first touch of his lips.
“I’d catch you kissing my stupid brother and wish it was me you were kissing.”
Oh, that was hot. Seriously, unbelievably hot. He’d liked her back then, which meant he’d liked her for years. They’d wasted all this time. He’d come at her only moments ago like some big dominant out to Christian Grey the shit out of her and now he was being sweet and admitting his teen crush.
On her.
“Really?”
“Really.” He looked up at her, grimacing. “I should’ve never admitted that.”
“I love that you admitted it.” She pressed her lips together to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. That she was more than halfway in love with him already. They might’ve only just started fooling around, but she’d known him for so long, yearned for him for years. He was her friend. She trusted him. Liked him—even if he drove her insane half the time. Why was it so ridiculous to consider that she was in love with him?
Oh God, she was in love with him. Talk about scary. This man didn’t do commitment. She was wasting her time falling in love with a man like Lane.
But it was too late. She was in it for the long haul.
Fighting her fears, she raised her head and kissed Lane, her fingers still wrapped around his erection, her other hand resting on the back of his head. He returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, his tongue thrusting against hers, driving her out of her mind. If he kissed as well as he fucked, she was in deep trouble.
Again, too late.
She was already in deep trouble.
Chapter Eight
L ANE HAD HER right where he wanted her. Naked and writhing beneath him, her fingers wrapped tight around his dick as they slid up and down in determined strokes. She wanted to get him off. Hell, she’d offered up a hand job—something it seemed no female wanted to do, not anymore. They were too old for that shit.
Or so he’d thought. He found it pretty damn exciting having her touch him like this. Kiss him like this. He didn’t want to crush her, so he kept his body lifted away from hers, but it was becoming harder and harder. His muscles shook. His entire body trembled from the way she touched him, and he knew if he let go he’d blow his wad in minutes if not seconds.
And he wanted this to last, damn it.
“Come here,” he told her once he pulled his mouth from hers, needing to catch his breath. She reached for him again, like she couldn’t help herself, and he rolled them both over so they were on their sides, facing each other. Her hand fell away from his cock, which was probably for the best, but her eyes glowed and her skin was flushed a warm, rosy hue that made his mouth water for the taste of her. “We need to slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to come inside you, not all over your fingers,” he said bluntly.
She lifted her brows, a laugh falling from her lips. “You’re crude.”
“This is nothing.” And it wasn’t. He could say worse. Do worse. But for some reason, he didn’t want to unleash all of that on Delilah anymore. She was too pretty, too special, too close to his heart—
Lane frowned. Wait a minute. He didn’t have a heart, was fairly certain that thing had shriveled up and died a long time ago. But there it was, pounding away in his chest, creating its own rhythm that sounded suspiciously like this woman’s name.
De-li-lah. De-li-lah.
Well, she hadn’t thought he was that big of a jerk. More like a hot jerk. A sexy jerk. A jerk she couldn’t stop thinking about even while she was dating his brother. Talk about feeling guilty . . .
“Dead serious. Felt like shit for it too.”
He hung his head, his warm breath wafting across her chest, making her nipples harder. She really wanted to feel his mouth on her nipples. They were extra sensitive, and she figured she’d go up in flames upon first touch of his lips.
“I’d catch you kissing my stupid brother and wish it was me you were kissing.”
Oh, that was hot. Seriously, unbelievably hot. He’d liked her back then, which meant he’d liked her for years. They’d wasted all this time. He’d come at her only moments ago like some big dominant out to Christian Grey the shit out of her and now he was being sweet and admitting his teen crush.
On her.
“Really?”
“Really.” He looked up at her, grimacing. “I should’ve never admitted that.”
“I love that you admitted it.” She pressed her lips together to keep from saying what she really wanted to say. That she was more than halfway in love with him already. They might’ve only just started fooling around, but she’d known him for so long, yearned for him for years. He was her friend. She trusted him. Liked him—even if he drove her insane half the time. Why was it so ridiculous to consider that she was in love with him?
Oh God, she was in love with him. Talk about scary. This man didn’t do commitment. She was wasting her time falling in love with a man like Lane.
But it was too late. She was in it for the long haul.
Fighting her fears, she raised her head and kissed Lane, her fingers still wrapped around his erection, her other hand resting on the back of his head. He returned the kiss with equal enthusiasm, his tongue thrusting against hers, driving her out of her mind. If he kissed as well as he fucked, she was in deep trouble.
Again, too late.
She was already in deep trouble.
Chapter Eight
L ANE HAD HER right where he wanted her. Naked and writhing beneath him, her fingers wrapped tight around his dick as they slid up and down in determined strokes. She wanted to get him off. Hell, she’d offered up a hand job—something it seemed no female wanted to do, not anymore. They were too old for that shit.
Or so he’d thought. He found it pretty damn exciting having her touch him like this. Kiss him like this. He didn’t want to crush her, so he kept his body lifted away from hers, but it was becoming harder and harder. His muscles shook. His entire body trembled from the way she touched him, and he knew if he let go he’d blow his wad in minutes if not seconds.
And he wanted this to last, damn it.
“Come here,” he told her once he pulled his mouth from hers, needing to catch his breath. She reached for him again, like she couldn’t help herself, and he rolled them both over so they were on their sides, facing each other. Her hand fell away from his cock, which was probably for the best, but her eyes glowed and her skin was flushed a warm, rosy hue that made his mouth water for the taste of her. “We need to slow down.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to come inside you, not all over your fingers,” he said bluntly.
She lifted her brows, a laugh falling from her lips. “You’re crude.”
“This is nothing.” And it wasn’t. He could say worse. Do worse. But for some reason, he didn’t want to unleash all of that on Delilah anymore. She was too pretty, too special, too close to his heart—
Lane frowned. Wait a minute. He didn’t have a heart, was fairly certain that thing had shriveled up and died a long time ago. But there it was, pounding away in his chest, creating its own rhythm that sounded suspiciously like this woman’s name.
De-li-lah. De-li-lah.
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