Page 2 of Caught from Behind

Me.

Or rather, his cock can slam home deep inside me.

I shiver at the thought, at the fantasy I’ve had over and over again from the moment I met him and wonder if tonight is the night it will come true.

His hand covers mine—big and warm, his fingers and palm rough with callouses that I want to feel catching on my skin as he trails it over my thigh, my hips, my breasts, between my legs.

But he doesn’t lace our fingers together.

Doesn’t lift my hand and press it to his mouth, doesn’t kiss my palm, or flick out his tongue, tasting my skin.

Instead, he drops my hand back on my own thigh and says, “You’re drunk” again.

A kernel of something—maybe uncertainty or doubt or…hurt—settles heavy in my stomach like a single stone landing in a pond, sinking to the bottom seemingly unseen once the ripples have cleared, but still there, still on the sand-covered bottom.

Altering the water’s flow, being covered with algae or used as shelter for a tiny creature.

There, even if it’s unseen.

Causing change, no matter how small.

I don’t want to feel that, don’t want to think that—don’t want life’s sharp edges cutting me. Not now. Not ever again. So, I shove that feeling down, holding my breath until the surface of that imaginary pond calms.

It’s a pebble, a tiny rock, barely larger than a grain of sand.

It’s nothing.

Absolutely fucking nothing.

Which is why I reach back over the console, allowing my body to follow my hand this time, leaning toward Riggs, my palm dropping back onto his thigh. “I’m not drunk,” I say, drifting closer, my breasts brushing his arm. “I had a couple of mules?—”

“Six,” he mutters. “You had six mules.”

I freeze, start counting.

One. Two. Three. Four.

No, I only had?—

Wait.

There was the time Nova refilled my copper mug with the extra mix.

So, five. Barely. That last one wasn’t even a full drink.

“Six,” he repeats, clearly registering that I’m counting. “Lake gave you his to finish off.”

I still. Think. Remember.

And realize that he’s right.

Which is…annoying.

But doesn’t really change anything.

I’m not drunk. I’m buzzed and no, I wouldn’t operate heavy machinery, but this pussy is primed, locked and loaded.

I know my own brain, my own mind, my own body.

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