Too Hot to Handle by Aleah Barley

head. Standing ten feet away, waiting to see him strip off his clothes, Honey bobbed her head up and down in time with the beat. Fire-colored hair and a fire-engine-colored bathing suit. The combination was spectacular. When she shimmied, her breasts floated up and down. Her tongue darted out to moisten her lips.
    He couldn’t breathe, but that didn’t stop him from being able to smell the smoke that clung to her hair and the hint of citrus she always carried on her skin.
    So much sex appeal packed into one tidy container. If she kept moving like that, he’d explode.
    A hot-blooded rock anthem blasted through the stereo system, his pulse pounding in time. His already unbuttoned shirt came off, dropping to the floor. He kicked his shoes into the corner, trying to concentrate on the way his body moved.
    Honey wanted a dance, and he wasn’t about to let her down.
    His hips rotated in time to the music, the fast beat like the rumbas he’d learned during ballroom dance lessons at the country club. He’d hated those lessons. At eleven years old, he’d been a foot shorter than all of the girls, and his fancy shoes always pinched.
    Honey watched him, her gaze strong, steady. Wandering across the bedroom floor, she tried to mimic his actions. One step forward, one step to the left, a step back, and a step to the right. A neat box step made exotic by the sway of her hips. “Like this?”
    “That’s the man’s part,” Jack murmured. “The aggressor.”
    He reached out with his right hand to touch her waist, guiding her until they were moving together. “The man pushes forward, and the woman takes him. That’s what my dance teacher taught me.”
    “Hmm.” Honey’s hands dropped down to move at his waist, unbuckling his belt. “What if I want to push?”
    Damn, she was beautiful. Her crazy red curls floating in the air.
    “Honey.” He leaned forward, so that when he spoke, his lips brushed her cheek. He kissed her softly, waiting for her to make the next move before drawing her tongue in to his.
    For a long while they stayed like that, kissing and dancing in his childhood bedroom as the music changed. Then his hand dipped to run across her tight butt. He pushed his fingers underneath her red spandex bathing suit. “How do you take this off?”
    “One sharp tug.”
    The suit wasn’t the only thing that got off that way. The way Honey’s hands were moving between them, unzipping his pants and running along the length of his cock, all it would take was one sharp tug to finish him.
    That was fine, but he wanted to do something first.
    His free hand moved up, skimming her body, to pull the bathing suit’s straps off her shoulders. He was supposed to be the one getting undressed, but she didn’t object when he pulled the suit down and tossed it aside. His hand came to rest on her belly, fingers curling possessively through naturally red curls. He could hear her sharp intake of breath in the pause between songs.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Nothing,” Jack lied. His thumb reached down, stroking her.
    “Please,” she begged.
    Please, for the second time in as many days. The word made his heart beat faster in his chest. It made him want her even more.
    “I want to feel you inside me. I need to feel you—” A ragged gasp escaped her lips as his hand’s easy motion slowed, his fingers resting near her innermost crevices. “Oh, god.” She moaned, half to herself. “I need to sit down. I need—” A sharp swallow. “I need something to lean on.”
    “Lean on me.”
    Her legs shook. Her knees were weak. He held her steady, wrapping one arm around her waist. He watched her face, the sharp intake of breath, the way her lips bowed and her eyelids fluttered as he brought her almost to the precipice, over and over again.
    Sex with Honey was going to be amazing—almost unimaginably so—but first he wanted to hold her. To watch her face as he brought her over the edge.
    Sharp nails dug into his shoulders, trying to