Page 47 of Perfect Praise

“Locke has always hated having his picture taken,” Elise laughs. “Even when he was little.”

His smirk pulls out only to the left, and he whispers, pretending he’s responding to Emmie, “It’s exposing, isn’t it?”

Elise smiles and rolls her eyes toward me as Conrad and Blake enter the kitchen laughing.

They fall into a conversation amongst themselves about Emmie eating solid foods.

I try to soak in what I can for my upcoming appointment as the best aunt, but I’m so distracted by Locke’s movements, I keep watching him when he turns away.

The way he pulls the plates down for everyone. How he sets the silverware on top of each napkin. When he pours my lemonade into everyone’s glasses.

His forearms tense. His scent wafts.

We sit down next to each other at the dinner table, whether it’s on purpose or not, I can’t tell.

I’ve never wanted something so badly for myself before, but how do I ask for it?

After dinner, Locke insistson driving me back to the house so I don’t have to walk in the dark.

He’s quiet as he weaves along the golf cart path. It’s almost pitch black out from underneath the lights of his back porch and pool, and I must have forgotten to leave any lights on in the guest house because we’re traveling further into darkness.

“Locke?” I whisper on a wave of courage. I can’t be imagining the way he looks at me. Or I hope I’m not.

“Hm?” he replies.

“I was thinking… could we just be mature adults who also touch?”

“What?”

“What if I don’t care if you use me? If you want to revenge-fuck me to get back at Russ for whatever, I don’t care.”

“Maren,” he says, his hands gripping the steering wheel harder. “I don’t want to revenge-fuck you. And I told myself I wasn’t going to touch you, especially now that you live here. I’m running on my last synapse of self-control.”

I only hear one thing. “But you do want to touch me, right?”

“Of course I want to fucking touch you.” He might break the steering wheel off.

I wrap my hand around his forearm and tug it into my lap. My legs open an inch for him, where I place his fingers against my inner thigh. He lets it happen. This is happening.

That alone took most of my courage, but I have to dig deep for more. Stop freaking out. I’m just going to have to come out and say it.

“I googled my…” Kink? Fantasy? Sexual preference? I can’t say any of those words out loud. “I googled my thing. And I read about it. Iknowyou know. You figured it out before I even did.” Deep breaths. Deep breaths. “I imagined it was your voice saying what the internet says I’d like to hear.” His jaw is clenched to stone, but his fingers are trailing lightly along my inner thigh as he tries to focus on the pathway in front of us. “I want to hear you say them for real and help me explore what I like. I’ll keep my emotions out of it. What if I want to use you?”

My question hangs in the air all the way back to his guest house. His hand remains on my leg, caressing my thigh like he’s savoring it, like he’s missed it. After he parks the golf cart on the other side of my car, blocking us from view of his house, I let out a breath.

“Are you going to make me beg?”

He shakes his head and rubs his free hand over his face. I hear a muffled, “Shit.”

I deflate. This wassucha bad idea, and it’s my fault for fantasizing that Locke would ever agree to this. He may want to have sex with me, but not enough. I’m too much and never enough, like always.

“Forget it,” I hurry out. “I live here. I talk too much and ask too many questions. I’ve never had a friend with benefits. I know. Just… never mind.”

His grip on my leg tightens, stopping me from getting out of the golf cart, and he looks at me with such intensity that his eyes are darker than the night surrounding us. “I think you’d look fucking beautiful on your knees begging me.”

My body immediately pulses and wants to drop to its knees for him, but in a motion that both of us initiate, I’m suddenly straddling his lap.

Locke kisses me lightly on the lips then trails down my neck. “I know that was hard,” he breathes against my skin, “and I’m proud of you for asking for what you want.”

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