“That’s . . . that’s all you’re going to try?” she asks, the strain in her voice turning me on now. Hell, maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.
“I’m not sure there’s much more to try, other than cooling you down with my fingers.”
“How . . . uh”—she swallows—“how would you do that?” Man, she’s tempting me. Not sure how much I’m going to hold back, not when her voice sounds so desperate.
Moving my fingers to her exposed skin, I start at her sternum and very slowly drag them down past her cleavage, to her stomach, and to her belly button, then back up again.
“Oh . . . Jesus,” she says as I feel her legs spread, one of them knocking into my leg.
“That helping?” I ask.
“Yes,” she whispers.
“What about this?” I lazily draw circles all the way down the center of her body and then back up again.
“Mm-hmm,” she says, her good hand fumbling under the bedcovers, bumping against my bulge.
She goes to grab it, but I stop her. “I don’t need cooling down, just you.” Then I move my fingers under the fabric of the shirt, growing closer to her nipples before pulling away and working my way back down to her belly button, this time passing by it to where the waistband of her underwear would be, but to my fucking surprise, she’s not wearing any.
Hell.
“Beau,” she whispers.
“Huh?” I ask, moving my fingers back up to her sternum.
“You’re making me hotter.”
“Oh . . . should I stop?” I go to remove my hand, but she clamps it back down to her chest.
“Jesus, don’t stop.” Her legs bend and tent the bottom half of the blankets as she wiggles underneath my touch.
“You want me to keep going?” I whisper into her ear.
“Yes, badly.”
“But you’re already a little too vocal. I’m afraid of what will happen if I keep going. Roger’s trying to sleep.”
“I’ll be quiet,” she whispers, moving my hand farther down her stomach, to the last button. “Please, Beau.”
“Begging?” I ask, nibbling on her earlobe.
“Pleading.”
I undo the last button and push the sides of the shirt open.
“Yes,” she whispers.
Keeping my eyes on her face, I lift my hand back up to her chest, where I draw a small figure eight over her breasts, coming closer to her nipples but never touching them.
“You’re going to make me touch myself,” she says.
“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” I move my nose over her jaw. “I’d love to see you come on your own fingers.”
Her head turns so our noses touch, and we stay like that for a few seconds, the sexual tension building, the moment pulsing between us, the air so goddamn heavy that I feel the need to cut through it just to have access to her beautiful face.
We each take a breath.
She wets her lips.
I wet mine.
And then, she leans in ever so slightly and nips at my lips before pulling away. It’s a cautionary kiss, and it ignites something inside me. I lean in closer and take her lips with mine as my hand moves across her chest and connects entirely with her breast and her pierced nipple.
Fuck, I forgot about that.
I groan into her lips, barely believing that after all these years, I’m actually touching her, kissing her.
Heady lust courses through me while I get lost in her mouth. My fingers play with her hardened nipple, moving the barbell back and forth ever so slightly. She moans quietly and turns to face me, but I stop her and push her back on the mattress.
“Stay where you are,” I say, catching my breath.
I position myself so I’m hovered above her now. Looking her in the eyes, I move one side of the shirt all the way open, revealing one of her breasts. Glancing down, my mouth waters as I take her in. I play with her nipple piercing. “When did you get this done?”
“Italy,” she says, her body lightly rocking beneath me. “Spur of the moment, loved it ever since.”
“Does it feel good when I play with them?”
“More than you can imagine.” Her legs part again, and she scoots up on the bed. “I’m going to need you to play a little farther south,” she whispers.
“Is that so?” I smile. “Are you ready for me?”
“Very.” She takes my hand in hers and pulls it down her body, placing it right between her legs before taking my fingers and running them along her slit.