Page 38 of Almost Enough

In my mind, she’s on her knees, looking up at me with those eager eyes. I’d hold her still, make her take it slow. Make her work for every inch.

“Christ,” I groan, my hips jerking forward into my fist.

The pressure builds, tightening at the base of my spine. I’m close, so fucking close. I grip the base of my cock, squeezing hard and drawing it out. I make myself wait, just like I made her.

My mind flashes to Whitley again—the way she trembled in my lap, the soft gasp when I tugged her hair, how perfectly responsive she was to every command. The trust in her eyes when she looked at me. Like she knew I’d take care of her.

That’s what does it.

I come with a strangled groan, my release hitting the shower wall in thick, hot spurts. My whole body shudders with the force of it, knees nearly buckling as waves of pleasure roll through me.

For several long moments, I just stand there, chest heaving, letting the cold water wash over me, cooling my overheated skin. I watch my release disappear down the drain along with any illusion of control I thought I had.

Whitley Collins. The woman doesn’t just talk too much—she takes up space in my head I never meant to give her.

I turn off the water and step out, grabbing a towel from the rack. As I dry off, I catch my reflection in the mirror. My eyes are still dark with want, jaw clenched tight. I look like a man barely holding it together.

I thought I had it all figured out. Keep my distance. Do my job. Be there for Rowan. Get through this wedding without complications.

But then she showed up with her nonstop chatter and those eyes that see too much, and now I’m in the shower, jerking off like a fucking teenager because I can’t get the image of her wet, flushed body grinding in my lap out of my head.

And now I’m rock fucking hard again.

I pull on a clean pair of boxer briefs and sweatpants, not bothering with a shirt. The cottage feels too warm anyway. Too full of her. Even when she’s not in the room, she’s everywhere.

twelve

. . .

Whitley

Everyone’s finally in town, and the rehearsal dinner is buzzing. Laughter, clinking glasses, music that’s just a little too loud sounds around me. To the naked eye, it looks like I’m enjoying this. And I mean, I am enjoying this, sipping my wine and telling Violet how proud I am of her for planning such a perfect wedding.

In reality, I’m distracted as hell and subtly fanning myself with the dessert menu, trying not to stare across the room at him.

Beau, in a button-down that fits his broad chest like it was sewn by angels, is talking to Rowan. Every few minutes, his gaze roams over to me like he knows exactly what I’m thinking…and I’m pretty damn sure he’s thinking it, too.

I feel like a live wire. My skin still remembers the feel of his hands, his voice telling me what to do. I squirm in my seat and gulp another sip of wine in an attempt to douse the memory.

Violet plops down beside me and gives me a suspicious look. “Why do you look like you’re either about to cry or combust?”

I lean in close, my voice barely above a whisper. “I came on his lap.”

Violet’s mouth falls open, her gaze bouncing between me and Beau across the room. “You…what?”

“You heard me. I had a literal religious experience on Beau’s thighs in the hot tub.” I grip my wine glass tighter. “He didn’t even kiss me. Just…” I exhale. “Told me what to do. And I did it. And it was insane.”

“And you’re just now telling me this?”

“I didn’t want to just text you about it,” I whisper. “I needed…encryption.”

“Wait. So he didn’t kiss you, but he—what? Just gave you the best orgasm of your life and walked off into the night?”

“Exactly. Except he was shirtless. And dripping wet. And somehow even hotter when he told me no.” I drop my head to the table. “I think I’ve unlocked a praise kink and a dominance kink in one sitting. I need help, Violet.”

She snorts into her glass. “You’re so dramatic.”

“I’m serious!” I hiss. “I haven’t been able to look at him without blushing for two days. And now he’s over there in that shirt looking like every fantasy I’ve ever had, and I’m supposed to focus on wedding toasts? No offense.”