And on a Sunday afternoon, I’m lying on the couch with this powerful man, who has the ear of governors and high-powered people, who runs a multi-billion dollar enterprise with ease and efficiency.

He’s snuggling me, on his back, with me lying on his chest, watching some stupid movie on cable, while his fingertips glide up and down my bare arm, my shoulder, my neck and into my hair and back down again.

If I could purr, I so would right now.

“We have the whole house to ourselves, and you want to watch a movie?” I ask lazily. He plants his lips on my head, takes a deep breath, and hugs me tight before his fingers resume their trek over my skin.

“Is there something else you’d rather do?”

“Well…” I grin and kiss his heart, over his T-shirt, breathing him in. He smells good. Clean. A little citrusy. I shift my pelvis over his and feel him start to harden, and his fingers still on my shoulder. “Yes.”

His fingers sink into my hair as I kiss down his torso, lifting his shirt as I go, and plant wet kisses over his flat, chiseled abdomen. His breathing speeds up, but he’s quiet; the only sounds are the TV and my lips smacking on his smooth, warm skin.

I could kiss his stomach all day long.

His T-shirt slips back down, and I frown up at him. “Can we dispose of this, please?”

He sits up and pulls his shirt over his head, tosses it on the floor, and shuts the TV off before lying back down. “Better?”

“Hmm.” I push up to kiss his lips, tug on the lower lip with my teeth, then work my way down his throat, chest, and back to his stomach, enjoying the ridges of the muscles there. “I thought the six-pack was a myth. Or the work of Photoshop.”

“Not if you work your ass off for it,” he replies. His breath hitches when my tongue finds the groove of that V in his hips and trace it down to where it disappears into his jeans. I make quick work of the button and zipper, and smile when I see he’s not wearing underwear.

Convenient.

His erection springs free into my hand, and I immediately grip it and pump it twice. Eli tosses his head back and groans, then turns his hot eyes back on me as I slowly lick from his scrotum to the tip in one long, fluid motion and rub the underside of the head on the flat of my tongue before taking him in my mouth and sucking, not too hard, but enough to get his attention.

And by the way his hand tightens in my hair, right at the scalp, where it feels so darn good when he pulls, I’ve got his attention.

“Fuck, that feels good.”

I take him deeper, until the head is at the back of my throat, and I swallow, massaging him, loving the way it seems to grow even bigger in my mouth, firm my lips and pull up, lick the head, and repeat the motion.

“Look at me.”

My eyes find his. They’re hot, narrowed just a bit. His mouth is open as he pants. The hand not gripping my hair is behind his head, and his whole body is heaving.

It’s sexy as hell that I can turn him on like this after just a few moments.

I lick down his shaft and over his tight balls, lightly suck them, then work my way back up to take him into my mouth once again. He begins to gently guide me into a pace that he likes, barely thrusting up to meet me. Not forcing me, but rather guiding me, and I love it.

“Grip your lips just a little tighter.”

I comply and he hisses out a breath.

“Fuck, baby.” His hips are moving faster, and suddenly, he’s pulling my hair, but I stay where I am. “Kate, I don’t want to come in your mouth.”

I hum and stubbornly stay put, but after only two more pushes and pulls with my mouth, he grips onto my shoulders and pulls me up his body, claims my mouth with his, and effortlessly reverses our position, pinning me beneath him on the cushions of the couch.

“I was having fun,” I pout.

“That’s not how this works, cher.” He nibbles my lips, brushes his nose over mine, and then plants soft kisses on my cheek.

“How what works?” I ask breathlessly. Good God, this man can kiss. Is this legal in the state of Louisiana?

Probably not.

“This.” He repeats softly as he continues to pepper my skin with kisses. “You’re not going to just suck me off and make me come and call it a day.”

“Well, that wasn’t really my plan. I was just having fun.”

“Hmm.” He kisses my collarbone. “I’ll be back. I don’t have a condom on me.”

“Wait.” I grip his arms, keeping him still. “I have the birth control covered.”

He raises a brow. “Are you sure? I don’t mind using them.” He kisses my collarbone again. “I’ve never not used them.”

“I don’t mind,” I whisper. “Unless there’s something you need to tell me.”

He offers me a wicked smile and kisses me deeply.

I glide my hands down his naked back to his ass, under his loose jeans, and hold on tight as he presses his pelvis to mine, grinding against me and making me even wetter, if that’s even possible. Is there anything sexier than a man’s ass when it’s barely covered by undone jeans?

No. No, there’s not.

“Eli,” I whisper.

“Yes, baby.”

“My clothes are still on.”

He grins against my lips and settles over me, his elbows planted on either side of my head. “Yes, they are.”

“Take them off,” I demand softly and wiggle beneath him, still gripping his ass, and the arch of my foot rubbing over his denim-covered calf.

“No.”

He grips onto my hair and tilts my head to the side as he drags his lips down my jawline to my neck and proceeds to drive me out of my ever-loving mind with his talented mouth and tongue. My nipples have puckered, my hands grip him tighter, one still on his ass, the other now buried in his soft hair.

My hips tilt up, pressing against his hard on, and I want him inside me.

Now.

“Eli, please. Need you inside me.”

“I’ll get there,” he replies lazily, and works his way around to the other side of my neck.

“Can we go a bit faster here?” I ask breathlessly, and then groan when his tongue skims over my sweet spot. “God, I love it when you hit that spot.”

“I know,” he whispers and does it again, making my toes curl.

“Eli.” I’m whining, and I hate myself for it, but for the love of all that’s holy, why isn’t he naked and inside me?

“Kate,” he says and bites the tender skin at the top of my shoulder. “It’s Sunday.”

I frown, but then sigh when he finally pulls my shirt up my body and guides it over my head. “What does the day of the week have to do with anything?”

He pulls the cups of my bra down and slowly circles one puckered nipple with his tongue, then blows on it and repeats the motion on the other side.

Moving as slowly as humanly possible.

He’s trying to kill me.

“You’re in the South. Don’t you know that we don’t do anything quickly on Sunday?” He’s kissing down my stomach now, and I’m a bit self-conscious because hello, I don’t have a six pack. Or any kind of pack.

But he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves down my body, and I’m expecting him to pull my denim shorts off, but instead, he bypasses the center of my universe and begins kissing my legs.

My legs.

“Really?” I demand with a laugh, earning a sharp bite on the inside of my right thigh.

“Patience, Kate.”

“Not patient.”

He chuckles and drags his fingernails down my outer thighs, calves, to my bare feet and back up again while his mouth does something completely crazy to the back of my knee.

Apparently, he didn’t find all of my erogenous zones yesterday.

“Oh, my God,” I murmur, and can’t keep my hips from shifting and moving. He’s going to make me come without even touching me.

How is that possible?

“Open your eyes, sugar.” My gaze meets his, and I’m surprised to find his eyes on fire, watching me as he unzips my shorts, guides them down my legs, and tosses them over his shoulder. “No underwear for you either?”