Page 89 of Everything She Wanted

“It’s a little tense. Too many long days at the office.” I play it off even though it aches with stiffness.

“I could give you a little massage if you like,” he says innocently, but I know we’re on dangerous ground.

“That would be great.” The need for release and my exhaustion win over.

I step away from the railing and join him on the loveseat, and he moves to sit behind me. He brings up one leg to rest beside me, so I’m in between his legs.

He starts kneading my shoulders through the robe.

“Here.” I slide down the robe to my elbows to give him easier access and pull my hair to the side, needing to have his bare hands on me.

His cool hands touch my hot skin, applying the exact right amount of pressure to work out the knots.

A soft moan escapes my lips.

“That good, huh?”

I don’t even try to deny it. “So good.”

I melt into his touch even more, each stroke releasing the tension, the fear, and the worry.

We stay like that. His strong hands move deftly, and my body relaxes more with every delicious movement.

It’s bliss, it’s wonderful, it’s not enough.

He shuffles closer and presses his lips close to my ear. “I’d love to show you what else I can do with my hands,” he whispers as if reading my mind.

I shiver.

He pulls down the strap of my tank top and drags his lips down my neck as he guides me back into him. I succumb all too easily. Everything is so effortless with him, and I can’t fight it anymore. Fight him, fight this, fight whatever is happening between us.

I feel his hardness against my back, and I know I should move, get away from here, but my body doesn’t budge an inch.

He grips my chin and guides my head to turn toward his, and then his lips move across mine lightly. My lips part, an invitation. He doesn’t waste a moment before he’s kissing me thoroughly while moving his hand down my neck, then my chest, before lifting my tank top and making gentle teasing circles on my stomach. His fingers start moving downward, and my breath hitches as he reaches my shorts. He slips his hands underneath them, pausing right at the spot on my lacy underwear that’s drenched right through.

“You’re so wet for me,” he whispers into my ear.

My body confesses things I never intended to. He pushes my underwear to the side, gliding his fingers along my clit as I lean back into him and hold my breath.

I stifle a moan and bite my bottom lip. It feels good, too good, and my restraint loosens with every stroke.

I don’t want him to stop, but I grab his wrist before he can continue.

“Let me make you feel good.” His finger lingers on me, right there, waiting for my permission.

I don’t respond. My mind is having trouble forming coherent thoughts.

He waits patiently before adding. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

My grip loosens slightly of its own accord.

He pulls his hand away and shifts out from under me, repositioning himself between my legs and then hovering over me.

He brings his fingers, still wet with my desire, to my lips.

“I could just get you off, that’s it, with my fingers...”

He brings his tongue to my mouth so I’m tasting both him and me.