The Morning After the Night Before. Nikki Logan
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The kissing went on for hours. Surely hours must have passed, possibly days. London might have sunk away into the Thames and been rebuilt on stilts while they were kissing.
‘Iz, maybe we should slow it down a bit?’
His voice sounded pained and it occurred to her that maybe he was in physical discomfort. Certainly he had reason to be. She ground her pelvis against him in sympathy and whatever he’d been about to say next turned into an unintelligible gargle.
She’d done it to torture him, but all it did was add a burning kind of need to the pressure ache already resident between her own legs. As she repositioned herself more comfortably on him, she thought about her half handful of post-school partners, who’d ranged from eager but inexperienced to accomplished but in it for themselves. Yet, here she was closer to completion with a virtual stranger faster and more surely than any of them had ever inspired.
And in the next heartbeat, she decided how very much she wanted to see if Harry Mitchell was everything he thought he was.
And the decision was liberating.
‘We’re not stopping,’ she announced between heavy breaths.
Harry’s eyes blazed hot and dark back up at her. ‘Okay.’
Her hands reached behind her but paused at the snaps to one of Agent Provocateur’s most artful and clever lingerie pieces. ‘And you’re spending the night.’
‘Roger.’
Izzy took a breath, knowing what would happen to her slight cleavage the moment she removed the magic suspension. Knowing disappointment would probably stain Harry’s hot gaze when he saw he’d been taken in by false advertising. But this was a one-night stand and he was getting laid and—PS—she didn’t owe him anything. Least of all pendulous breasts.
She flicked the bra free. ‘And you’re going to show me whether you’re worth all your own hype.’
The devil grinned back at her and, bless him, if he didn’t keep his eyes fixed to hers even though a pair of boobs was now on offer. Secret points for that.
‘Abso-frigging-lutely.’
Izzy pressed up on her knees slightly and then reached down between them, fussing at his belt.
‘Look at that,’ she purred. ‘Something we finally agree on.’
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