“You’re the only one who matters, though.”

Sunny’s uncertainty is obvious in the tightness of her jaw and the flexing of her fingers in my hair. Some people avoid confrontation. I don’t. This whole situation is the perfect catalyst for a sweet make-up session. Keeping her on the edge of anger and fusing it with desire is the best way to finally get what I’ve been waiting for all these weeks.

Her anger simmers like almost-boiling water. Sunny cups the back of my neck and yanks me forward, our lips connecting. It’s amazing after two long weeks of nothing.

Kissing is an art. It’s the most important part of foreplay. Everything I’ll do to the rest of her body with my fingers and—sweet Christ, please let this be the night—my dick is simulated with kissing.

She tries to be aggressive, to push her tongue past my lips, but I nip her with my teeth. She makes this pained sound, frustrated and needy at the same time.

As soon as her lips part I slip my tongue inside, stroking slowly. She tastes like the cinnamon and clove toothpaste she uses. It reminds me of gingerbread cookies. Interesting. That means she stopped to brush her teeth before she answered the door. Even as pissed as she was, and maybe still is, she prepared for this.

I run a hand up her arm and across her shoulder until I’m cupping her cheek in my palm. Then I suck on her tongue. It drives her fucking crazy when I do that.

Sunny groans and winds herself around me, hooking her feet at my waist, fingers twisting in my hair to keep me from backing off again. That’s not part of my immediate plan. I’ve had far too few make-out sessions with Sunny to stop right after we’ve started.

I inch my palm up her thigh until the tip of my middle finger is under the hem of her shorts. Sunny mashes her chest against me, getting as close as she can. I ease my hand back down her thigh to her knee, staying away from all the most exciting places.

I’m playing with her. It might seem mean, but she’s enjoying it, and I’m having a good time getting her all excited. If I’m ever going to get her naked, I have to get her to the point where all she can think about is the orgasms I’ll give her if she lets me.

“I hate it when the hooker bunnies are all over you, and I hate being jealous,” Sunny mumbles around my tongue.

I back up until her face comes into focus. “You don’t need to be jealous. You’re the only one I want all over me.”

Sunny’s hands leave my hair and ease down my back. Her palms find my ass, and she shifts forward. It’s magic for my dick. Anything besides my own hand is beyond awesome. She wiggles her fingers under my waistband. I’m commando. Underwear is mostly useless. My balls like to be free, not confined by material. This time I feel the sharp bite of her nails when she grabs my ass.

I’m cool with this kind of aggression. I’ve had sex with all kinds of women, from the quiet ones who like missionary, to the ones who think it’d be fun to tie me up and take control—not that I’ve ever let that happen.

I move the hand on her upper thigh to her waist. I don’t even try to go under her shirt. I keep it at her ribcage, my thumb two inches shy of the underside of her boob. Sunny has smallish boobs; they fit in my palm. And her nipples are little and pink. She can do the braless thing if she wants without it being obvious. They’re fucking awesome. I can’t wait to have them in my mouth.

The less I touch where she wants me to, the more frantic she gets. Sunny’s hand retracts from the back of my pants. She grabs the hem of my shirt, pulling it up. I don’t break the kiss right away. Instead I keep going back to suck on her bottom lip and nibble on her chin. When she makes a frustrated noise I back off. She yanks my shirt over my head and tosses it on the floor, then sighs.

I’d say it doesn’t inflate my ego at all, but that’d be a total lie. Sunny knows exactly how hard I have to work to stay in shape. She appreciates the time and energy I spend conditioning my body. So, yeah, she’s ogling, but it’s not because she can’t wait to tell her friends she got to bag an NHL player.

She runs her fingers through my hair, nails scratching lightly down the sides of my neck. When she reaches my shoulders she pauses, her eyes moving over my chest and down my abs.

“You look so good without a shirt on. I wish it was summer all the time.”

“I won’t wear one while we’re in the house.”

“Or by the pool.” Her fingertips drift down my arms.

“I won’t even wear shorts, if that’s what you want. I’ll swing free all weekend, just for you.”

“Just for me, eh?”

There’s the cute Canadian twang I like so much.

“Mmm. Just for you.”

“That’d be fun, but the neighbors can see everything.”

“Aren’t they, like, ninety?”

“Yeah, but the old guy’s a pervert. He watches me sunbathe with binoculars.”

“Seriously?”

“Sometimes. He’s harmless. I doubt he’s had a real hard-on since the early nineties.”

“I’m gonna skinny dip tomorrow so I can make him jealous.”

Sunny laughs and runs her hands over my shoulders. “I think you want to get naked in front of me.”

“Look at how excited you are about me being shirtless. I don’t know if you can handle me naked, baby.” I grin at her put-out expression. Leaning in, I drop a kiss on the end of her nose, and another on her chin. “I’m fucking with you, Sunny. I think you can handle me fine.”

She cups the back of my neck, drawing me in for another kiss. Our tongues meet and tangle, softness changing to need as the kiss gets deeper and Sunny starts rubbing up on me. I cup her ass and help out with some friction.

Sunny’s hand wanders from my shoulder, down my arm to my side. I know where she’s headed when her fingertips reach the waistband of my shorts. Normally I’d be damn excited about this.

Unfortunately, I was in a rush getting to her, so I didn’t have time to rub one out before I got on the plane. It’s three in the morning. The last time I self-loved was yesterday. I whack a minimum of twice a day. Usually first thing in the morning and before bed. I’m behind, which means if she puts her hand on me, after two weeks of only my own, I’m likely to blow real fast. And I could probably use a quick clean-up with a razor. It’s not pretty in my pants right now.

Thankfully, we’re pressed up right against each other, and I’m grinding all over her, so it’s a struggle to get a hand between us. She gives up after a minute, her hands going back to my ass.

“Maybe we should go upstairs,” she says when I break free from her lips and kiss a path down her neck.

“That’s an idea.”

Except it will take us out of the moment. Plus, there’s something extra hot about making out with her in one of these hideous chairs, in the middle of her family living room. I scan the room; all the curtains are drawn, so her pervy neighbors can’t see inside. I decide I want to make her come here. That way, every time I have to sit in this room and chitchat with her parents, I’ll have this awesome memory.

I inch toward the top of her thigh. Sunny groans and her legs tighten on my hips.

“Let’s go to my room.”

“Whadda you wanna do up there that we can’t do here?” I bite her collarbone through her shirt.

Sunny arches, pushing her chest out. Her cleavage might be ruined by the damn sports bra, but it’s not padded; I can still see the faintest outline of nipple through her shirt. I brush over the spot with a knuckle.

“Miller.”

“’Sup, baby?” This time I slide a hand under her shirt, tickling along her ribs. When I reach that stupid bra I push it up until her breasts pop out the bottom. Now I can see her perfect nipples through the sheer fabric. It’s almost better than having an unobstructed view.

“Let’s just go—”

The words die when I cover her nipple with my mouth.

“Oh, God.” She wraps both arms around my head.