Page 19 of Tell Me Something True

“Your panties.”

She looked down at him. Hesitated. And it wasn’t because once she took them off she’d be completely naked in front of him. Wasn’t because he sat there, dressed and seemingly in full control while she was a trembling, horny mess, her pussy muscles clenching with need.

It was because once she handed over her thong, he’d know exactly what he did to her. He’d know the power he held, his ability to make her wet without even a touch.

Hooking her fingers under the straps at her hips, she slid the thong down her thighs, making sure she didn’t break eye contact with him as she did.

Her panties fell to her ankles.

“Give them to me.”

Again, she hesitated. This time because she wasn’t sure she could lift her foot without toppling over, not when she felt unsteady and lightheaded in the best way. He did nothing to help her, didn’t offer her a hand to keep her balance, just watched while she stepped one foot out, then the other, knelt and picked them up.

When she handed them to him, he didn’t add them to his hoarded pile in the space next to him. He slowly wrapped them around his fist like he’d done with her belt. Making them a part of his hand.

Making them his.

His fingertips rubbed the silky material in his palm. “You’re wet.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered it anyway. “Yes.”

He nodded, pleased with her response and that pleasure, his pleasure, had more moisture pooling between her legs. “Who are you wet for?”

Not who made you wet.

But who are you wet for.

As if her arousal was owned by him. Claimed by him.

Was his and his alone.

“You,” she said on a ragged whisper. “I’m wet for you, Miles.”

His eyes glowed with a combination of heat and triumph, and he wiped the hand holding her panties down his mouth, the sound of the silky fabric against his whiskers like an electric current running along her nerve endings.

“And what do you want?”

“You asked me that before,” she said, feeling increasingly more vulnerable. “You told me you didn’t have what I wanted.”

His smirk was back, darker and sexier than before. “You don’t want the old Miles. He couldn’t give you what you need.”

Her stomach swooped pleasantly and she squeezed her thighs together to try and ease the sudden, vicious ache his words produced in her core.

“What do you want, Tabitha?”

The first thing she wanted was for him to say her name again like that, soft and husky. Like it was something to be drawn out. To be savored.

But she couldn’t do it. This truth was too big. Too frightening to let loose. It was too unwieldy and dangerous to hand over to him when he sat there, spread out on the sofa, as if he didn’t have a care in the world.

Not when she was still so unsure of his motives.

“You can have it,” he told her, a murmured promise. One she wanted desperately to believe. “You can have what you really want. All you have to do is tell me.”

The rapid beat of her pulse echoed in her ears. She wished she could refuse him, if only in this one little thing. But she didn’t want to back down.

Even if that meant exposing more of her weaknesses to him.

Even if that meant he might exploit those weaknesses. Use them against her.

---