Page 65 of Look, Don't Touch

“Good. I’ve never done this before. You might not like it.” He says this as he runs his fucking gorgeous hands up my inner thighs and pushes them wider.

His fingers leave my stockings, and we are skin on skin.

A bawdy moan pours out of me.

He goes crazy, rubbing his palms over the hint of thigh and ass peeking between the material. His calluses make my skin sing. He hooks a finger into the rear straps and pops them on my flesh.

My hips twitch. He tugs on the stockings, trying to feel more of my skin, more of my thigh. His eyes follow his progress, intent and alive.

“Your skin is so fucking…” He runs his hand farther up the dip of my hips.

“What?” I beg.

“Soft. Smooth. It’s fucking…witchcraft.” His thumbs glide over the edge of my panties, and I’m downright spellbound. He releases a heavy breath, the dragon, and drags his thumbs down my center.

My hips cave in on themselves, and I’m in danger of coming too incredibly soon. Sounds leave me, and I don’t recognize them. This conjuring he’s incited seems to encourage his exploration, and that’s what it is. His fingers dip and delve around every stitch of my panties, teasing me to the very brink of sanity.

When I’m about to combust, he reaches into his pocket and pulls something out. There’s a snick in the air, and then a blade appears. It’s short but sharp enough to end me with one well-placed nick.

“Trust me?”

Air whooshes out of my lungs. A stupid fucking tear slips from my eye. I have no idea where it came from.

Do I trust anyone in this untamed world? Two people.

It’s a fucking stretch, but then, he’s stretching too. He’s touching me when he doesn't touch anyone.

I nod. He tilts one brow a centimeter. “Yes!”

“That’s my siren.”

I’m confounded and my brain can’t focus between the sobriquet or the back of the knife running up my thigh, closer and closer to my?—

He flicks the knife and material screams.

I don’t. Not because I wouldn’t, but because I’m ensnared in the look of awe on his face.

Again, he flicks the knife and once more material screams. He pulls the tattered remains of my panties from my body and stows the blade back inside his pocket, along with the soft pink material.

“That was hot as hell.”

His smile is devilish as he runs his hands back up my legs and then acquaints his fingertips with my most intimate flesh. “What about this?”

“Even better.” My hands fist my jacket while I struggle to hold my hips perfectly still.

“Then why do you look pained?” He’s smug, and it’s charming on him because I know how far he’s pushing.

“I’m trying to stay still.” He thrums my clit and I gasp, so close to losing my mind. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“Hailey?”

My eyes snap open at his gruffness. I hadn’t realized I’d closed them.

“You seeking pleasure could never scare me.” He flattens his wet fingers over my clit and holds it still. “Rock your hips for me. Let me hear you come.”

Between his words and his fingers, I’m half gone already. I leverage my weight onto the console and roll my hips, circling his fingers with my clit. It’s a new sensation with someone else. It goes against my MO, and holy fucking hell, it makes me want to stuff his hand into my pants every second of every day.

His hand is steady while I rub my flesh against his. It’s just so right. My belly flutters. Those dark eyes study me, pull at me, drown me in unadulterated lust.

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