Page 100 of Sex Positive

Untangling her fingers from his, she presses her palms to his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart. She slides them around his neck, dragging her fingers through the soft hair at his nape.

“But you know what? Even though I tried so hard to hate you, you make it so difficult. Because you are smart and funny and you make me feel desired and…sexy.” He smiles, but she presses a finger to his lips, keeping him silent. “And you make me feel safe and understood and you see me, Wes. And sometimes I feel like I can’tbreathewhen you touch me.”

He holds her gaze, eyes flickering with a flame that looks like hope, like she’s the answer to all his questions. His hands rise to her hips, pulling her against him.

“So no, I don’t despise you. Quite the opposite, in fact. And do you want to know the real reason I lied to Nash about sleeping with you?”

He cups her face before she can react, his fingers trembling as they trace her jaw, tilting up her chin.

“Why?” he whispers.

“Because I wanted it to be you. It’s always been you, Wes.”

He surges forward, capturing her lips in a searing, breathless kiss. All the emotions from the past weeks—months—burst like a dam, carried away in a torrent of overwhelming heat and desire, and it feels like everything, exactly what all the other moments have been leading to.

“I want you.” He nips her bottom lip, and she whines, needy and desperate. “God, I want you so much. Tell me what you need. Please, Charlie, tell me what I can do to make my mistakes up to you.” His hands grip her hips. “Do you want me on my knees? Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness?”

She smiles aginst his lips. “It would certainly be a start.”

Instead, she rises on her toes and presses her mouth to his throat, sucking gently before tracing a path up his neck and brushing a delicate kiss on his mouth.

She whispers, “Show me you mean it, Wes. Take me to bed.”

Twenty-Eight

Wearing the smileshe loves best, Wes tilts up her chin. “Did you say you’re so attracted to me that I take your breath away?”

Surprised, she lets out a gasping laugh and tries to withdraw from him. With quick reflexes, he snatches her fingers and presses them to his lips. They tingle at his touch.

“That isnotwhat I said. You’re so arrogant—”

He yanks her forward, dragging his mouth over hers once more. It’s fast and messy, and she reacts with equal enthusiasm. His hands slide down to curve around her breasts, her waist, her hips, memorizing her shape. One hand slides under her sweater, his fingers already weaving fire into her skin.

When he deepens the kiss, tracing her bottom lip with his tongue, she drags her fingers down to the waistband of his jeans and palms him, his groan sending a rush of heat straight through her.

“Fuck, Charlie,” he hisses. Not a moment later, he grabs her ass and lifts her, and she wraps her legs around his waist. His mouth finds her neck, sucking on the spot that makes her moan.

“Bedroom,” she gasps.

Shoving open her door, he pauses long enough to stare at the stacks of brochures, flyers, diagrams, and other expo paraphernalia littered across her floor in what she calls organized chaos.

“Redecorating, I see,” he murmurs.

“I’ve been busy!” she argues.

“I know you have. Am I going to ruin anything?”

“Just be careful where you step.”

He murmurs in agreement and kicks her bedroom door shut before tossing her unceremoniously onto the bed.

She bounces, laughing, before his delicious weight settles atop her. Desperate for his skin, she scrabbles at his shirt, tugging it free. When he groans, she swallows it hungrily. He slows his movements, his lips softer, exploring her jaw, her neck, melting every part of her.

“Undress me,” she gasps, yanking off his shirt and throwing it across the room.

His laugh makes another surge of desire race through her veins. “So impatient.” He wraps his fingers around her wrists, pinning them above her head. “I want to take my time with you.”

After removing her shirt, he drags down her bra, exposing the swell of her breasts. His hands explore her without hesitation. When he struggles with the clasp, she teases, “Need help?”