Mister Romance by Amelia Simone (the reading list .txt) 📕

Chase shoved open the kitchen door, pulling me in behind him. The latch gave a quiet snick as it closed behind us quickly followed by bright fluorescent lights flickering on. The light was jarring after the intimacy and softer lighting of the dance floor, and I blinked as my eyes adjusted. Chase flipped the lock behind us, and the bolt hitting home caused a shiver to race down my spine at the risk we were taking. My family was outside, oblivious to the heat Chase and I were generating in the kitchen. He’d been patient with my family, with me, all day. This headlong rush into desire triggered by his words on the dance floor had my pulse tripping. My feelings for Chase had only intensified with every moment together. Whether he considered this moment  a friendly hookup or something more, being with him was worth the risk.

The stainless appliances and counters gleamed under the lights. A large walk-in fridge dominated one wall, and Chase pulled me gently toward it. Leaning his big body back against the silver door, he gathered me closer, his hands caressing the sides of my breasts down to my hips, sending a fresh ache of desire arrowing through me. With a quick tug, he pulled my hips to his. Evidence of his desire rubbed against the cradle of my thighs, and I leaned into him until and placed my lips against his.

Our first kiss was gentle, belying the rough burn that begged for more. Chase sipped at my lips, then nipped at my bottom lip with his teeth. The scrape of that brief contact had me aching to feel that pleasure-pain along every delicate inch of skin.

The sweet pull of his lips against mine, and the occasional chafe of his stubble against my neck turned my posture to putty. I could feel my body liquefying under the assault, but leaned into my own exploration. I lost track of the moments as we kissed, until Chase seemed to realize that he’d gone off script. He pushed me gently away from him.

“Now, where were we? Oh. The dress.” The deep rumble of his voice made my knees weak. Just as he had so deliciously suggested, Chase tugged the sleeve from my right arm and set his lips to my neck. I shivered under the onslaught of sensation. The fine hairs of his stubble rasped along my skin.

Chase continued with the other side of my dress, until my arms were caged by fabric to my sides. He gave me a quick, possessive kiss before maneuvering me as he’d described, my forehead pressed against the cool steel, and my hips in his firm hands as he grabbed me from behind.

He placed tiny kisses at the nape of my neck, slowly lowering my zipper and kissing the exposed skin. My knees trembled. I wouldn’t be able to stand up for much longer. Chase ad-libbed by scraping his teeth along the edge of my shoulder blade, and I whimpered softly.

“Are you as wet as I thought you’d be, Tamra? Why don’t you check?” he invited.

My arms were still restrained at my sides, and I shook my head. “I can’t. You’ll have to do it for me,” I husked. I sighed as I felt his hands start creeping from my hip bones, around to the juncture of my thighs.

“Tamra, I can feel your heat through the skirt of your dress,” Chase breathed. Then his hands caressed down to the hem of my dress, rucking it up my legs until he could run his fingers over the gusset of the scrap of silk between my thighs. “Soaking,” he groaned as he started kissing from the back of my ear down my neck again. I couldn’t contain my shiver of desire, and I didn’t want to. My hormones were screaming for a good time, and like a ride at Disneyland, Chase promised to deliver a thrill.

Chase ran his hands down my spread legs to the ankles, grasping them firmly. Then he stroked back up my legs slowly, tortuously. I couldn’t help trying to grind my hips back against his shoulder where he was bent over me.

I was steeped in the fantasy, managing to ignore the glaring lights and movement outside the door. The potential for discovery lingered in the back of my mind, right up until Chase tried to rip my panties from my body at the seams.

“Oww!”

I couldn’t help my outburst. I’m not sure where book heroines buy their undies, but I liked a well-made pair. Mine were not intended for seduction and playful destruction; they were silky but sturdy as shit. Normally, I’d guard them with my life. Good underwear was hard to find.

The moment was broken for me, but Chase seemed oblivious at first, attempting the ripping motion again, like a magician trying to pull a tablecloth off beneath the dishes.

“Stop.”

“Shit, sorry,” he said. “I thought if I tried a different angle that would work better.”

I shuddered, my body cooling. “Let me clear that up for you: NO. There’s NO angle that makes that work better.”

At that moment there was a loud knock at the door, and I pushed frantically at Chase as I turned around. Chase’s eyes widened at the interruption.

“Is there someone in there? I thought I heard shouting,” a deep, male voice asked from the other side of the kitchen door.

The knocking didn’t stop. If anything, it became more insistent, and I barely held back a groan. To step outside with a blush and stammer, or hide until they went away?

I quickly worked to put myself back to rights, smoothing my skirt down.

Chase rubbed the back of his neck, looking at me miserably. “Sorry,” he mouthed silently.

I hoped like hell that the person outside didn’t have a key. There was a brief murmur outside and the unmistakable scrape of a key in the lock. Fuck. My motions turned frantic as I pushed the sleeves of