Inside Out by Lauren Dane Page B

he’d missed his chance to get closer to Ella. The elderly lady he’d spent the last several hours with had reminded him of his grandmother. So he’d stayed with her, had some tea and talked her through the system for the dozenth time until she felt comfortable enough for him to leave. It would have felt insulting to everyone if he’d just reset the system and left, knowing Mrs. Morgan was spooked and lonely.
    So now here he was, alone in his half-empty condo, still aching for Ella.
    He didn’t bother turning on the lights. He knew the way, around the coffee table and across the rug. And the moon was setting, casting a silvery light on the walls.
    She’d been vivacious earlier that evening. Aglow with joy and sensuality. He smiled as he leaned into the shower to turn the faucet on. He stripped off, tossing the clothes in the direction of the laundry basket, another task he needed to finish up soon or he’d be wearing parachute pants and a long-sleeved tie-dyed shirt to work.
    The heat of the water against his muscles felt good, rippling through him, relaxing. He breathed in deep, remembering the way she’d felt, her body backed up to his as they’d danced.
    He’d kissed her. Impulsively. But he couldn’t find it anywhere within himself to be sorry. They’d been together, dancing. There’d been a sort of magic about it. Just the two of them in a sea of undulating bodies.
    And when she turned, her mouth curved into a beautiful smile, so totally open and engaged with him there’d been nothing else to do but kiss her. Just a quick slide of his mouth against hers. He’d swallowed the gust of her surprised sound.
    He’d done it on impulse, yes, but he’d done it in public, marking her in some sense, wanting everyone to know she was his.
    What he’d really wanted, as she’d looked up at him back at Brody’s place, was to push her back against the wall, his hands sliding down her sides, his mouth on hers, swallowing her needy little sighs.
    He soaped up, his eyes closed, head tipped back as the water rushed over his body. Kissing her wouldn’t be enough. He’d invite her back to his place. Not the condo, but his house.
    Her skin would glow in firelight, he decided. He’d build a fire to keep her warm. A woman like Ella needed some TLC, some cosseting and adoration.
    That first time, he’d start at her toes and work his way up. He knew she spent a great deal of time on her feet. He could scent the warm almond oil he’d use, massaging her heels and instep.
    The feel of her, after wanting it for so long, would be intoxicating. As intoxicating as the permission to slide his hands up her calves and thighs, kissing in their wake. He knew she was sensitive about her scarring, but he didn’t see a single part of her as anything but beautiful.
    He’d take a long, closeup look at the tattoo on her back as he left a trail of kisses up her ribs and then across her belly, avoiding her pussy and breasts for the moment, rolling her over, moving up her spine to her neck.
    Slick with soap, Cope fisted his cock, imagining her taste when he made his way back down the sweet belly and to her pussy. He grew impossibly hard just thinking about it, thinking about how she’d feel against his mouth.
    He fucked his fist over and over as he imagined licking her until she came, imagined how her kiss would taste as he moved up her body, notching his cock against her, slowly pushing into her body.
    He’d have to pause to push orgasm back. She’d be hot and tight, and just being in her would have pushed him to the brink.
    Tugging on his nipple ring, he picked up the speed, the friction pushing him close to the edge. He imagined fucking her senseless. Slow and deep until he’d roll her, bringing her astride him.
    She’d rise above him, her hair playing peek-a-boo with her face, riding him all while his hands roved over her body.
    His fingertips would pause at her clit, fingering her until she exploded around his cock. Her eyes would