Page 59 of Sex Positive

He stops.

“Why—”

“Say it again.”

She inhales at the intensity in his gaze, in his words.

“My name,” he says in a delicious undertone. “Say it again.”

She does. She moans. “Please don’t stop.”

“Gorgeous.” He increases his pace, and she feels something tighten, twisting in her center. “Fucking gorgeous.”

More, she thinks.I need more—

Until she is no longer thinking at all because she is burning, burning, burning, her pleasure coiling tighter and tighter—

“Wes, I’m—I’m going—”

She’s incoherent, but he knows what she needs. He moves his fingers faster, and she rides his hand while he coaxes her on.

“Come on, Charlie,” he commands. “Don’t hold back on me.”

She shatters, falling over the edge.

He maintains his rhythm until she whimpers and grabs his wrist. He lets out a deep chuckle that feels like the heat of whiskey unfurling in her veins.

Slowly he removes his fingers. “Good?”

With her head tipped back against the pillows, she nods. The bed dips, and he shifts, moving up her body. His lips brush her temple, sliding over her jaw.

Opening her eyes, she finds him studying her, a satisfied grin on his lips.

“That was…” She searches and fails to articulate exactlywhatit was, tries reconciling what she just experienced with the feelings she’s been trying to suppress for years.

Has it always been like this? Like if he didn’t touch as much of her as possible, she’d erupt? Like heat would consume her?

She lets out a breathy laugh, limp and sated, the most relaxed she’s felt in days.

“It was,” he agrees without her needing to explain. They look at each other, and she sees something flash across his face before vanishing.

He presses an open-mouthed kiss to her shoulder before starting to move off the bed, but she grasps his wrist before she can stop herself. His eyes snap to their hands, his brows rising.

Rising to her knees, she presses a palm to his chest. His pectoral muscles jump, his gaze searching her face, a question in his eyes. She remembers how she got herself off the other night to the thought of him, and she wants to touch him, wants to make him feel as good as she does.

She smiles. “My turn.”

His eyes widen, his enticing mouth popping open with surprise.

“Teach me how to touch you,” she whispers, echoing his earlier request. “Show me how to make you feel good.”

His mouth snaps shut, throat bobbing. His heart thuds under her palms. A noise like he’s being strangled slips from his lips, and he swallows again.

For one horrifying moment, Charlie thinks she’s made a mistake.

But then his lips curve, and he climbs back onto the bed. Spreading his legs, he leans back against the pillows, like he’s reclining on the beach, not at all like he’s about to teach her how to get him off. She takes in her fill of him, appreciating the ridges of his stomach, the definition in his torso, his muscles rippling with each rise and fall of his chest. Finally, her gaze lands on his groin, the obvious bulge of his arousal that she’s been too distracted to notice until now.

Her pulse races, and she’s filled with a sudden uncertainty, her momentary boldness seeping away in the face of his taut body spread before her.