Page 44 of Don’t Look Down

I can’t handle it right now.

“Please,” I beg, digging my nails into his shoulders. “Please, Beau.”

I don’t know if it’s my begging or his name on my lips, but he shoves my panties aside and brushes his finger through my slit. I’m so wet it slides seamlessly.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, breath hot against my lips. “You’re so soft. So fucking warm.” He gathers the wetness from my core and brings it forward to my clit.

I cry out the moment he makes contact. It’s too much to kiss him at the same time he’s circling that sensitive spot. My head falls into the crook of his neck, eyes screwed shut, only able to focus on what he’s doing to me.

He holds my head with his free hand, fingers digging into my hair, holding me to him. My hips rotate of their own free will, just chasing the building sensation that’s starting to wreck my body.

“That’s it, ride it out, Princess,” Beau murmurs in my ear. He licks the shell of it, and my core clenches. “Ride my hand just like that.”

He doesn’t even have to tell me. I may not have done this before, but my body clearly knows what to do. Beau keeps steady, even pressure on my clit as he rubs it back and forth, in perfect rhythm with my hips.

My breathing grows ragged, like the overflowing sensation in my core has stolen every other ability from my body, all focusing on that one little spot.

On Beau’s fingers, drawing it closer and closer. I cling to his shirt, face buried in his neck. He smells of the sea and salt.

“Beau,” I cry. “I think I’m going to⁠—”

I don’t get to finish what I’m saying as his fingers make one more circle around my clit and it’s enough. I buck in his hold, crying out as wave after wave of pleasure like I’ve never felt before ravages my body. It steals my breath, all sound, all sense of anything but pure euphoric bliss. Stars explode behind my shut lids as I ride it out until I float back into my body.

I sag against his chest, our wet clothes a mess between us, and try to regain my composure. The windows are fogged and my damp hair sticks to his neck.

Beau sighs contentedly as he gently rubs my back. I could lay here for hours, basking in the feeling of being in his arms. I shift and feel him still hard between my legs.

I slip my hand between us and cup him over his pants. Beau’s hips jerk at the contact and he mutters a curse. There’s no belt for me to undo, so I find the button on his pants and slide my fingers around it⁠—

Beau clamps a hand over mine. He doesn’t move it, just keeps me immobile.

I lift my head, frowning in confusion. My face asks him a silent question.

But Beau’s expression is strained when he flicks his eyes to mine. “I want nothing more right now, then to let you do whatever it is you were intending to do.”

I slump back, sitting on his powerful thighs. “But?”

“But,” he says, choking out the words like they’re physically painful. “I don’t want to take this further, when I know…” A muscle jumps in his jaw, and he inhales sharply.

The unspoken words are a cold bucket of water doused over me. “When you know how inexperienced I am.” Shame crawls up my skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. “Got it.” I try to scramble off his lap but he clamps his hands around my waist.

“No, God no,” he rushes out. “That’s not it at all. I don’t give a fuck about that.” His head falls back against the headrest. “I just don’t think we should go any further until you decide what you’re going to do. About Lock.”

Hearing his name snaps something inside of me. It shuts down all the warm, free-flowing, bubbling feelings I’ve been riding out since I leapt off that cliff and replaces it with a tangle of guilt and nerves.

“Oh my god,” I whisper. My limp hair falls around my face, shielding me from view as I hang my head. “Oh my god.”

It’s not like I was unaware of the choices I was making, both on the cliff and just moments ago in this very car. I consciously chose them.

I was just able to ignore everything I shouldn’t have, because… well because I simply wanted to.

But reality has sunk its claws back into my brain like thick, black talons, and when I try to scramble back to my seat, Beau doesn’t stop me this time. I loop my arms back through the sleeves on my dress and adjust the top.

The air grows stale, absolutely suffocating. I jam the window button over and over again but nothing happens.

“They’re locked,” Beau mutters. “For security.”

My hand slams against the door. “Damn it.”