The Carrero Heart - The Journey (Book 2 of Heart Trilogy)

Chapter 17

Arrick half carries me, half walks me backwards from the elevator, mouth glued to mine as he kisses me passionately, hands all over me and things getting steamier than they have since Leila's party. Fingers roaming one another, not looking where we are stumbling and fully focused on making each other as horny as humanly possible without physically putting our hands in each other's pants. He has my hair all messed up and in my face from running his hand through it, using it to tug my head to one side as he angles in, giving me about the most body curling kiss known to man. His tongue seems to be doing a whole new thing with mine and my insides are going to self-implode with the amount of scorching fizz going off. We bang into a wall, then a table, giggle without breaking our connection and his hand skirts up under my dress to cup my ass and guide me a little more directly into his apartment.

We are both drunk, been pawing and flirting for the last couple of hours when we all moved to a club after bowling and he had me sexy dancing up against him on the dancefloor, grinding saucily and unable to keep his hands from straying. He changed my mood from downhearted and deflated to happy and party-ready, in only one long, slow smooch and flurry of his hands skimming my body in the alley. Ever since then I have been wrapped around his neck, unable to be parted.

The cab ride home was equally steamy as he pinned me against the seat and kissed me relentlessly, libido set loose with the amounts of alcohol we ended up drinking and hands braver than they have been since that party. Arry drunk horny and inhibitions wavering. Things notching up all evening, heading for a complete hormonal explosion and now we're back at the apartment to carry it further. His hands boldly slide up my thighs while I start opening his shirt buttons, hints at more than a make-out session brewing between us and I'm all for it. There is no doubt, no confusion about the inner stirrings of my body and the way I'm crying out for him to be inside me.

All night, it's half the reason I drank so much. Dutch courage. My head telling me to just get over this hurdle and give my poor man a girl who actually gives him sex. He clearly needs it after what I listened to, and I don't want to be another reason he has a less than satisfying life. All night I felt fragile and vulnerable, what with Natasha showing up, the way she kept appearing to try and infiltrate our group and making Arrick a little more toned down in his attentiveness because he doesn't want to rub it in her face. He let loose when we went to the club and the pent up 'behaving himself and keeping his hands off me' ended; he made up for it by barely keeping his hands to himself and I loved it.

He sucks on my bottom lip, running his fingers into my hair so he can angle my face again, lifting me with his other hand, so my legs automatically go around his waist as I straddle him standing. I have no bearings on where we are going, too busy playing tonsil tennis with his mouth, those perfectly soft lips pressed into mine and he tastes so good. Eyes closed tight and lost to what an amazingly good kisser he is. No matter what way he kisses me, it always feels like this and seems to press all my buttons effortlessly, igniting any response he wants from me. My body is on fire with the aching need to have him all over me, skin tingling and head empty of everything except the need to be joined to him in every way possible.

I giggle when I'm dropped on my back on the couch, separated for a second before he is right there on top of me again, nestling between my open legs, warm hands sliding down my calves and pushing my shoes off for me while he recaptures my mouth. His kissing is more on par with that drunken night, a little hint of real Carrero passion coming through and blood most definitely heating up on his end. I love the little hints into what he can be if his real unleashed side gets to play. It's obvious he holds back with me, always aware of pushing me too far and yet it's always there, bubbling under the surface like a hot devil wanting to come out to play.