Page 148 of Untying the Knot
“Are you sure?” I ask her.
“Positive.”
I exhale. “Thank God, no stitches.” And then I lie back on the grapes again and stare up at the night sky.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Enjoying the view.”
She looks up at the sky and then back at me. “Aren’t I the view?”
“If you were topless, yeah.”
“Pervert,” she mutters, causing me to laugh. And then I do something I probably shouldn’t do, but hey, I’m drunk, so who cares? I lift her and pull her on top of me, placing her directly on my lap.
“My dear sir, what do you think you’re doing?”
“Using you as a blanket. I’m chilly.”
“Aw, you poor baby,” she says as she pats my chest. “Let me see if your nipples are hard.” She runs her hands over my pecs and glances to the side. “Hmm, can’t quite tell. I’m going to need a closer look.” She untucks my shirt from my pants and slips her hand against my warm skin. Her palm lights me up as her fingers caress my erect nipples. “Oh, look at that. They are hard.”
“Yeah, something else is going to be hard in a second if you don’t stop playing with my nipples.”
She grins. “You always loved getting your nipples touched, licked . . . flicked.”
I place my hands behind my head to prop myself up a bit more. “Yeah, what else did I like?”
“What didn’t you like?” She rolls her eyes dramatically, the moon casting sufficient light so I can discern her facial expressions. “You were a champion of all things in the bed. You even let me strap that vibrator on you that one time.” She leans forward and whispers, “Remember you came so hard, you got cum in your eye?”
“Yeah, and remember when I said that was to never be repeated again?”
She shrugs. “It’s best you know that I’ve told Nichole that story at least three times.”
“Is that why she calls me a pirate?”
Myla lets out a roar of a laugh and nods. “Yes.” When I don’t laugh with her, she drags her fingernails over my chest—another thing she knows I like. “Please, as if you’ve never told Banner anything embarrassing about me.”
“Never,” I reply.
“You’re such a liar.” Her nail passes over my nipple, and I let out a short hiss.
“Myla, I’m drunk, but not drunk enough to get hard, so stop it.”
She chuckles again and then gets off my lap. She stands above me and holds her hand out, so I take it, and she helps me to my feet.
“Your shirt is all disheveled,” she says.
“Want to tuck it back in for me?” I waggle my eyebrows at her.
“I’m okay. Thanks for the offer, though.” She takes my hand, and we walk back up the hill, me supporting her as she does it in heels. When we reach the top, she says, “I need to get out of this romper and this strapless bra, or I might die.”
“Want me to take it off for you right now?” I ask. “I don’t mind.”
“I’m sure you don’t,” she says from over her shoulder as she walks away, pulling my hand with her.
I really would.
So fucking bad.
