Page 94 of Holding Out for a Gyro
And I said a silent prayer of thanks to all the Greek and Roman gods of love.
As soon as the door clicked shut, I backed away from her until I reached the middle of the room, waiting on her to decide what would happen next.
She hesitated near the doorway, obviously aware that we were crossing a line in the sand. We hadn’t thought this far ahead. I just wanted to go somewhere I could kiss her and kiss her andkiss her. Right now the air hung heavy with the anticipation of what might come after the kissing.
She stepped toward me. “I want to see you.”
Slowly, she undid my buttons, pausing between each to gaze up at me, her eyes searing me with the heat of her passion. Once she unfastened the last button, she slid her hands along my shoulders and forced the fabric down my arms.
I shivered when she dragged her fingernails across my torso, stopping at the top of my pants. I held my breath.
She popped the button. “I love your body.”
I watched her hands, hardly breathing, and asked, “Just my body? So superficial.”
She pressed her lips against my pec. “And your heart. You have a beautiful heart.”
“Go on.”
She touched my forehead. “And your mind.”
“Those are all body parts. What about me?”
“All of you.”
“Tell me.”
“I loveyou. Isn’t that obvious?”
My body, aching for her to keep touching me, begged my mind to keep my mouth shut. But my beautiful heart interfered. “No. It’s not.”
I cursed my stupid, beautiful heart when Chelsea pulled away. “You’ve become my best friend, my companion, my trusty sidekick.”
I swallowed down the bitter resentment. “Sidekick?”
She laid her hand on my chest. “I don’t want to ever lose you.”
Her words made me dare hope we were finally turning a page. “Are you saying you want to be more than friends? For real?”
She pushed against me, and I staggered back a half step. “For real.”
“But why? Not just because you miss the sex?”
“Because I’m in love with you.”
My heart skipped a beat. When she gave me another rough shove, my legs hit the edge of the bed, and I sat hard on the mattress. I started to laugh at her manhandling of me, but then she planted her hands on my shoulders and knocked me onto my back.
“Chelsea—”
She straddled me and bent forward to whisper. “Stop talking.”
I couldn’t have said a word anyway, because she kissed me, but not like before on the gondola or in the streets. Not like when we’d fucked on the kitchen counter or made quiet love in her bed. When she kissed me now, it felt like possession. She broke free only to rip my zipper down and release my rock-hard cock from the confines of my boxers. My head fell to one side with the sudden pleasure of her hands on me.
She stroked the length, her thumb dragging just below the head, and I cried out for her. She ripped her dress over her head with one hand. I reached up and unclasped her bra, tearing the straps from her arms. I couldn’t bear the frustration another minute.
“Condom?”
“Fuck the condom, Bas.”
