Page 63 of The Thought of You

Truth be told, I appreciate that we’re on the same page. That if and when we kiss again, she agrees it’s intimate and binding—a moment shared between two people who trust each other.

“I get it,” I rasp.

She releases a humorless laugh that just twists the proverbial knife into my gut as she untangles herself from me. “Honestly, I still find it hard to believe you’re not trying this much just to see how quickly I’ll cave.”

“This isn’t a game, Lockhart,” I assure her, my voice taking on a gravelly edge.

“It’s not, which is why I can’t give into you until I’m sure, no matter how…” Her nostrils flare even wider than before, and her pupils dilate as she visibly undresses me. “No matter how horny I am.”

I cock a brow.

She holds a hand up and closes her eyes again, her shoulders high in a defensive position. “Please forget I said that. The last few days have been absolutely brutal, and I’m stressed, and clearly, I’m nuts. I’ve just been acting and talking all crazy.” She finally opens her eyes and forces a smile. It’s not the same smile from before while we were dancing, and it doesn’t sit well with me.

As she attempts to brush past me, I reach out and slip my palm over her shoulder, urging her to relax. With her back pressed against my front, I bring my lips to her hair and speak low, as if we’re not completely alone, when I affirm, “I’ll be as attentive as your boyfriend as I have been as your enemy. I promise you that. I’m happy to fucking prove it to you, too, however long it takes.”

Again, she shudders underneath my touch, and the vibrations are stronger than before.

Thick red specks blur my vision as lust fuels my brainwaves.

“What if…” She raises her hand to grip the back of my neck, and she arches into me, painfully gluing the curve of her ass between my legs.

Even though I can’t see her face, I know the exact moment she feels me. Her arousing gasp echoes in my head, and there’s no mistaking how much she likes what she feels against her backside.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” I urge as I trail my fingertips up and down her velvet skin.

Only a whimper answers me, and her grip on me tightens.

“I can give you a taste, angel,” I whisper as I loosen her ponytail until her hair is as free as her. Then I bury my face in the strands that cascade along the slope where her neck meets her shoulder. “I can give you a taste of what it’d be like to be mine. It’ll show you exactly how fucking attentive I am.”

She grows limp in my arms for a ghost of a second.

“Would you like that? I need to hear you say it.”

Addie slowly pivots to face me. “Not here.” She nods toward the less than private glass door, through which I spied on her like a possum, as she so lovingly called me.

She rushes to turn the lock on the door and returns with a leap. With my hand in hers, she leads me toward the back, where we disappear from any potential witnesses into what I can only describe as a private nook. It’s half a hallway with a restroom nestled at the end.

Addie plasters her back against the wall and tugs me toward her, lips parted as her eyes roam over my face and chest. “Touch me.”

It’s a simple request, but it releases her sinfully supple lips as a dire plea.

My legs wobble as if the weight of the entire world rests on them.

I promised we wouldn’t take things to the next level until she agreed she’d be mine and only mine, but I can’t, in good conscience, leave her needs unmet.

She told me she’s horny, and I’m only fucking human.

“Put my hands where you want them, baby,” I growl along her jawline, the wisps of her wild hair brushing my cheek.

Without hesitation, she covers half my hand with hers and tucks it into the front of her leggings.

“Fuck,” I hiss as she guides me between her legs until I’m cupping her wet heat.

And she is soaked.

Dear Babe Ruth and Joe DiMaggio—I’m in heaven.

This is officially what it’s like to follow the light, and I don’t regret being blinded by it and caving to her needs.

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