Page 36 of Resisting the Grump

“On that note, I’m going to say goodnight.”

“I’m more than happy to walk you home,” I reminded her.

“You already have.” She pointed across the street. “That’s my building.”

My stomach twisted. “Which one?”

“That one,” she said, confirming my fear. “With the curved canopy over the entrance.”

Fuck.

“I’d invite you up for a drink—”

“Better not,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to do anything that might make you change your mind about that second date.”

She licked her lips.

“Sometime next week?”

She set a hand on my chest and looked up at me and…

I couldn’t resist. I pressed my lips to hers and held them there, letting the pull between us intensify. But I didn’t open my mouth. Instead, I let the promise of more build until it was torturous, until the temptation to taste her was overwhelming. Then I pulled away, even though it drained me of every drop of energy and restraint I had left. And when I saw the sweet smile that spread across her face, I knew I’d done the right thing. “Goodnight, Avery.”

Her lashes were heavy with lust as she turned to cross the street, and she smiled over her should twice before disappearing into her building. Our building.

Talk about a bad surprise.

N I N E T E E N

- Avery -

I felt like an addict, poised on the brink of forgetting my hard-won sobriety for one night of reckless abandon with Oliver Harrington. So what if I had to start back at square one tomorrow. It would be worth it just to hear the filth he longed to whisper in my ear. Don’t even get me started on how good it would feel to let him manhandle me.

Not that I was in a hurry to be degraded, but… being wanted by him made me feel more alive than I had in a long time. It was surreal. Normally I’d be turned off by a man being so forward, especially on a first date, but my whole body felt like it was under a spell.

Fortunately, he’d shown Herculean restraint and cut the night short, which was a relief. As much as I longed to be his plaything for the night, there’s no question my judgment felt cloudy. Another five minutes with his pheromones and I was liable to invite him upstairs and suggest he offer me a place to sit.

I poured myself a glass of wine when I got in, and stood at the counter, imagining how it would feel if he stepped up behind me and wrapped his strong body around mine. My heart raced at the thought of his hard-on swelling against my ass, my hips teasing towards him with anticipation. I let my eyes fall shut and slid a hand in my panties, my fingers stretching towards my silky slit, which was so slippery and ready for him it seemed a terrible waste.

God how I wanted his thick fingers to spread me open until my body concentrated around him. I groaned as I coated my aching bud with my need, imagining his hands on my hips and breasts, imagining his infamous tongue between my legs.

I paused my fantasy just long enough to take my drink to the bedroom. As I lay down, I imagined what it would be like to have his large frame hovering over me, his strong hands pushing my dress up and forcing my knees apart.

Then I pulled my vibrator from my bedside drawer and imagined what it would be like to peel his expensive clothes off and drag my fingertips down his chest, what it would feel like to have his eyes on me as he stroked himself.

My need for release made my mouth water, and I touched myself like I was his plaything, my orgasm like a delicate mouse dangling over the jaws of a lion. And when I finally gave in to the wave of pleasure I’d built inside me, it crashed through me hard and fast, driving the air from my lungs like a sucker punch. Afterwards, I lay gasping for breath in a puddle of my own want, his handsome face on the back of my eyelids as I wished he were there, drinking me down like an oyster…

I was still in my dress when I woke up, curled in bed with my vibrator within reach. Guess the evening wiped me out more than I thought. A goofy just-got-laid grin spread across my face, which seemed odd seeing as how I hadn’t actually gotten laid.

It was a remarkable feeling. On one hand, I was proud of myself for not jumping into bed with him even though he’d seduced me on every level. Equally, I was baffled that imaginary sex with Oliver had been so much more fulfilling than the literal sex I’d had with other men.

Was it him? Was it me? Was it them?

I sighed and sat up, feeling smitten down to my toes and happy I’d agreed to go out with him. Not that Grace’s concerns weren’t warranted, but she was wrong. He was a great guy. Charming company. Easy on the eyes. Best of all, he made me feel pretty and smart the entire night. So what if he only did it because he was determined to get in my pants? At least he had the decency and class to try and charm me out of them with riveting conversation instead of plying me with liquor and hoping for the best.

I shuddered at the memory of my old standards and wondered how they got so low. But it didn’t bear thinking about. What mattered was that, thanks to last night, I’d turned a corner.

My phone pinged in my purse and my smitten heart took flight as my bare feet bounded across my apartment to see who it was. Naturally, I hoped it was Oliver, but I should’ve known better. He was too cool to text this soon after a first date. Or maybe he had his hands full, touching himself to thoughts of me. The suggestion made me smile, and I wondered how long I’d be able to keep my cool when my whole body was aching to know if he could deliver on the promise behind that loaded kiss.

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