The Next Move (2 page)

         
He’d been attracted to her as long as he could remember, but never like this. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was that sliver of black lace that taunted him from beneath her sweatshirt. Whatever the case, he was losing his mind.

         
At least I can somehow still manage to play chess without looking like a total idiot
.

         
His spine straightened. She always gave him a run for his money, even if he was stone cold sober and playing his very best. Yet tonight, she was making as many mistakes as he was.

         
As if she was as distracted as he was.

         
No way
.

         
She couldn’t be.

         
But what about the way she paused when he jokingly asked what she was paying attention to? His mouth went dry. That had to be his imagination. Wishful thinking. He looked towards the kitchen. She couldn’t possibly feel the same thing he did tonight.

         
Could she?

~ * ~

         
Come on, get it together. It’s Chris, for crying out loud
.

         
Pulling a bottle out of the wine rack, Kat wondered how many more it would take to get up the nerve to say something. Or
do
something.
No. No, I can’t
.

         
"Need a hand?"

         
Kat spun on her heel, nearly dropping the bottle. "Jesus, Chris, you startled me."

         
"Sorry." He came towards her. Slowly. Cautiously. "Are you okay, Kat?"

         
She swallowed. "Yeah, of course. Why?"

         
"Because you’re shaking."

She looked down at her hands, gripping the bottle

tighter and clenching her free hand into a fist to still the tremors. Staring at her hands, she cleared her throat. "I’m fine, yeah. I’m just…"
What? Shaking because I want you so bad it hurts
?

         
Something in the air shifted. The atmosphere changed, became electrified, making it hard for her to breathe.

         
"Kat…"

         
Her head snapped up as she realized what had changed. He’d moved closer, and now stood less than an arm’s length in front of her. Close enough to touch. She’d stood this close and closer to him a million times in the past, but now, he was simultaneously too close for comfort and too far away.

She couldn’t look him in the eye. She couldn’t breathe, and she didn’t know if it was because she was afraid that he would touch her or that he wouldn’t.

         
He reached for her and her heart pounded. The presence of his hand warmed hers as it came to rest near, but not touching her fingers on the wine bottle. He tugged gently at the bottle, but she hesitated. Part of her wanted to let him take it so that she no longer ran the risk of dropping it, but judging by her own vise grip, it wasn’t going anywhere. It was the one thing she had to hold onto. If she let go, she’d need something else to anchor herself in reality. And the only thing close enough besides the wine bottle was him.

"Kat, what’s wrong?" The unsteadiness in his whisper brought her eyes up to meet his in the same instant that her fingers released the bottle.

He leaned away to set the bottle on the counter and when he came back, he was closer to her than before. As if he’d taken a step while she wasn’t paying attention.

The fabric of his shirt rustled, a sound that would have been inaudible if not for the total silence in the kitchen, and she closed his eyes just before the warmth of his hand met the side of her face."Talk to me, Kat," he whispered.

I want you to kiss me
.

Forcing herself to look at him, she swallowed hard. A million thoughts ran through her mind, but there were no words to express them. Instead, she put her hand over his on her face. His fingers separated just slightly, letting hers sink between them, her own fingertips cool against her face compared to the heat of his.

Are you going to kiss me
?

         
Drawing an unsteady breath, she moved towards him, willing herself to stay upright as she ventured into the tense, electrified space between them. She stopped, leaving it up to him to come closer. When he did, he slid a hand over her hip.

         
You’re going to kiss me, but when
?

         
She put her arm around his waist, as much for stability and support as for closeness.

         
Chris, kiss me
.

         
He tilted his head slightly and leaned towards her, slowly, but stopped.

         
Kiss me
.

         
With his chest touching hers, she wondered if he felt her heart pounding.

         
Kiss me
.

         
When he spoke, his lips were almost close enough to hers to touch. "Kat…"

         
"Chris, I—"

         
"Checkmate."

Two

         
Before the word even registered in her mind, his lips were against hers.

         
Immediately, she wanted to taste and explore his mouth, but even the gentle touch of his lips was too intense. She parted her lips, inviting his tongue, then brought them back together, then parted them again.
I want more. This is too much. I want everything you’ll give me. I can’t handle this
.

The hand on her face started towards her hair, and her own hand fell from his, landing on his forearm. Desperate to touch him, she let his arm serve as a pathway, guiding her hand to him as she fumbled blindly through the confusion that served as her conscious mind’s last defense against understanding that this was really happening. Her hand found the warmth of his face and her fingers registered the movement of his jaw a heartbeat before his tongue parted her lips.

His mouth tasted vaguely of wine, but it was the realization that it was Chris’s tongue against hers that sent a shiver up her spine.

This is really happening
.

         
He broke the kiss, resting his forehead against hers as his fingers tangled in her hair. "Jesus, Kat…"

         
He brought his chin forward to kiss her again, but pulled back a second before their lips met. Closing his eyes, he swallowed hard before releasing an unsteady breath. He made no effort to push her away—in fact, he still held her close to him—but he avoided her mouth.

"Kat, I want to kiss you again." He was breathless, his

voice was tinged with frustration. "I want to so bad, I…"

         
"Kiss me again."
Please. Chris. Please, kiss me again
. His fingers moved in her hair and she realized his hand was trembling. "Chris…"

         
"If I do," he paused, swallowing hard.

         
Why won’t you kiss me again
?

         
Finally, he found the words. "If I do," he whispered, touching her face. His voice shook with desperation. "Kat, if I kiss you again, I won’t be able to stop at just a kiss."

         
The ache inside her, that feeling that had nagged her all night, suddenly became unbearable. All night long, she’d wondered how she could tell him she wanted him, that she wanted him every way he’d have her, and finally, the words came:

         
"Kiss me again."

         
Chris didn’t hesitate.

         
As his tongue explored her mouth, he slid his hands under her shirt. They both gasped as his skin touched hers, and they broke the kiss just long enough for him to lift her shirt off.

         
Kissing her deeply, he let his fingers memorize the bra he’d imagined so many times since its strap first caught his attention that night. He ran his fingertips along its alternately smooth and coarse surface, seeking the warm silkiness of her skin but hesitating as if some irrational part of his mind expected her to shove his hands away. As she leaned into his kiss and murmured when his thumb circled her nipple through the fabric, that irrational little voice quieted.

         
Kat reached behind her and a second later, her bra went slack, as did Chris’s mouth when his hands cupped her breasts with nothing separating skin from skin. It wasn’t as if he’d never touched a woman before, but he’d done a lot of fantasizing about this particular woman and never imagined he’d ever have her like this.

         
Circling her nipple with his thumb, he kissed his way down her jaw and onto her neck, his mouth watering at the thought of sucking on her nipple, of gently holding it between his teeth while he flicked his tongue across it. He wanted to taste every last inch of Kat’s body.

         
She tugged at his shirt. "Let’s take this someplace else."

         
He murmured against her neck. "Wherever you want."

         
Without another word, she took his hand and led him out of the kitchen. On their way through the living room, his jacket, draped over the back of a chair, caught his eye.

         
"Wait," he said.

"What? But—"

"Condoms." He paused to pick up his jacket and fish the condoms out of the inside pocket.

"No reason to go get all the way into the bedroom, then." She grasped his shirt and pulled him into a desperate kiss.

With a hand on the small of her back, he guided her towards the couch, but she stopped him.

         
"No. Right here."

         
"Right—"

         
She cut him off with another kiss, pulling him down to the floor behind the couch. He didn’t protest; he was already on the verge of coming simply from her desperate, hungry kiss. Though he wanted to touch and taste her all over, he had to be inside her
right now
. Judging by the frantic hands trying to unbuckle his belt, Kat was very much on the same page.

         
He sat up and pulled his shirt off, then went for his zipper. Nodding towards her, he growled low. "Get those jeans out of the way."

         
She chewed her lower lip and fumbled with her belt, cursing under her breath as her hands shook. His own hands trembling, Chris tore the condom wrapper with his teeth and pushed his jeans far enough off his hips to be out of the way. Rolling the condom on, he watched her shimmy out of her jeans and the black lace panties that matched her bra. A passing thought of
I didn’t know she had those tattoos
murmured through his consciousness, but there would be time to look at her ink later. The only thing that mattered now was being inside her.

As he came down to her, she met him halfway, kissing him deeply as they sank together to the floor. Her thighs squeezed his hips and she pushed against him, whimpering as the head of his cock slid into her pussy.
     

"Fuck me," she moaned.

         
You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to hear that
.

         
In the next heartbeat, he was inside her. Deep inside her. Closing his eyes, holding his breath, he was still. Every fiber of his being screamed at him to fuck her, to thrust hard, deep, fast, but for a moment, he simply. Couldn’t. Move.

         
"Oh God." His own voice sounded foreign, the words coming out as something akin to a sob.

         
"Chris," she moaned.

         
He opened his eyes, and the look on her face almost drove him right over the edge. Lips parted, skin flushed, blue eyes on fire with pure, desperate lust.

         
Slowly, he withdrew, exhaling as he pulled almost all the way out. A soft whimper escaped her lips, her eyebrows lifting, wordlessly pleading with him to stay inside her. She took a breath, opened her mouth as if to speak, but before she could, he slammed into her and took her breath away. He paused, then did it again. And again. Her moans and shudders turned him on more than anything, and he fucked her faster and faster.

         
Thrusting as hard as he could, he watched her eyes, watched her body writhe beneath him as her pussy tightened around his cock with every stroke he took.

         
Her fingers dug into his arms. "Oh my God, oh my God…" Her spine arched beneath them as she screwed her eyes shut and gasped for air. "Oh God, I’m…I’m…" All that followed was a throaty cry, and she came.

         
Chris kept thrusting, kept fucking her, watching her come, feeling her come, completely disbelieving that
he
was making Katrina come, until she cried out his name and he couldn’t hold back anymore. He couldn’t even say her name, or curse, or cry out, or even moan; all he could do was gasp for breath, hold onto her shoulders, and come.

         
When the last shudder had passed, he rested his weight on his shaking arms, trying not to collapse on top of her.

         
He lifted his head and kissed her. As soon as their lips met, goosebumps prickled his skin. That desperate hunger was still there, barely tempered by what they had just done. If anything, she was even more turned on than before.

         
Judging by the way she held him and devoured his kiss, she wasn’t unsatisfied. He’d done nothing wrong. She simply wanted
more
.

         
He dipped his head and kissed her neck, working his way up to her ear, where he whispered, "Bedroom?"

         
The shiver that ran through her told him everything he needed to know.