“You look like you’re thinking again, Pickle.”

Her hands fly up to my chest again, and she pushes me back a few inches, enough that she can stand up straight instead of leaning back to look me in the eye.

“I swear to God if you call me that again, I’m walking right out the door.”

A smile stretches across my face, and I don’t know how she does it. How she pushes everything away until she’s the only thing left in my head. Before she knocked on my door, my head was so f**king dark . . . I’m not sure what I would have done.

“That sounds a little like someone is catching their breath.”

I grip the counter on either side of her and push forward. Her arms bend until they’re trapped between our chests. I lean in until our mouths are inches apart, until I can taste her breath.

Quietly, I ask. “You want me, Dylan?”

She sucks her bottom lip between her teeth for a second, and when she lets go, it’s wet and rosy, and I want to pull it between my teeth, too.

“You don’t have to have everything figured out. God knows, I don’t. I’m just asking about right now, in this moment. Do you want me?”

Instead of trying to push me away again, the hands on my chest smooth upward. Then slowly, she slides her hands around my neck until my chest is flat against that smooth, silky shirt.

“Of course I want you. Have you seen you?”

“I see you.”

She swallows, and her eyes bore into mine when she replies, “Yeah, I think you do.”

I pull away enough to pop open another button, revealing the top of her cle**age. She shifts closer, and she’s soft everywhere I’m hard, and the friction turns my spine into a live wire.

“For the record, I still think this might be a bad idea.”

“For the record, I think it’s the best idea I’ve ever had.”

Her fingers trace lightly back and forth over the back of my neck, and I’m a ticking time bomb. Each stroke makes my fuse a little bit shorter, and I need to get those buttons undone before I forget about not destroying her shirt.

With an agility and speed that I was missing today in practice, I have the rest of her buttons undone and her shirt open in seconds. Her bra is this pale purple that cups her small br**sts perfectly. Her narrow waist flares out into curvy h*ps covered by a snug skirt. I can’t decide whether I want the skirt off or hiked up around her waist.

Deciding on the latter, I grip her h*ps and lift her up onto the kitchen counter. There’s a certain appeal in seeing her still in those fancy clothes, but pulled and bunched and revealed however I can manage. I love to see her go from pristine to disheveled all because of me. Slowly, I push the edge of her skirt up her thighs. When I can’t move it any farther, I say, “Lift up your hips.”

She wets her bottom lip, and my c**k twitches at the sight. Her nerves just kick up my adrenaline. I give her a few seconds to adjust, taking two steps back to look at her.

She snaps her legs closed and sits up straight. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to decide exactly what I want to do to you.”

She hunches over, shaking her head and laughing under her breath. “It’s like you’re trying to give me a heart attack.”

“I don’t want to give you a heart attack. I want to make you come. The question is just how.”

She tilts her head to the side and blinks at me. “How are you so comfortable with this?”

I don’t think she wants the real answer to her question . . . that I’ve been doing this for a very long time, since before I was really even old enough to understand half of what I was doing.

“I just know what I want, what I like. And if you’ll let me, I’ll help you figure that out, too. You want that?”

Tentatively, she nods. I cross to her again and slide my hands up her thighs to where I left off with her skirt.

“So, tell me what you like, Dylan Brenner.”

“I don’t know.”

I give a light pinch to her thigh, and she yelps.

“Tell me what you like. Don’t think. Don’t worry about what you should like.”

“I liked what we did Friday.”

I slip my hand underneath her skirt, all the way around to cup her ass.

“Which part?”

“Uh . . . all of it.”

I dig my fingers into the fleshy curve of her butt.

“Be specific.”

“You’re, um, a pretty fantastic kisser.”

Of all the things I want to do to her, kissing is the blandest option, but it’s a place to start. I use the hand on her ass to pull her to the very edge of the counter. Her legs spread wider to accommodate my body, and her skirt stretches around her thighs. I cover her mouth with mine and press our h*ps together. The only thing between us is my shorts and her underwear, and I can feel the heat of her. Her mouth opens on a gasp, and I take my chance to taste her.

She makes these quiet little noises of pleasure that send my blood pumping faster. Her tongue pushes into my mouth, and her fingers tangle in my hair. I rock my h*ps into hers, and I’m lined up just right so that I could slide right into her if there weren’t any fabric in the way. I thrust forward, wanting to be closer to that heat, and pull her legs up to wrap around my waist.

I lean my forehead against hers. “Tell me what else you like.”

She breathes against my mouth, and with her eyes still closed, she says, “Your hands in my hair.”

I grin. “I like that, too.” I pick up the braid laid over her shoulder and pull off the band wrapped around the end. “I love your hair.” It’s golden and wild and hints at what I think is hiding beneath that laced-up exterior. “The night we met I couldn’t decide which I liked more . . . the idea of pulling on this braid as I f**ked you or undoing it and watching it fall all around you as you rode me.”

She moans quietly, and I give the braid a quick tug before I start separating it.

“What . . .” She pauses, swallows, and begins again. “What do you like?”

I bury my hands in her hair and drag her lips up to mine, grinding my h*ps into hers. “I like the way you blush when I talk about what I want to do to you. I like when you pull on my hair, too. I like when you dig your nails into my skin without even realizing you’re doing it. I like having your legs wrapped around me.”

She clears her throat. “I mean . . .” She slides one of her hands between us and down to cup me through my shorts. “What do you like?”