Page 170 of The Snowball Effect

She paused for a second so she could watch Emma’s face and make sure she reallydidwant to do this right now. Before she gripped Emma’s wrist and guided her touch up her inner own inner thigh, until she felt Emma’s fingers brush against her pussy through her underwear.

A moan rumbled through her chest, her eyes fluttering closed of their own accord, as she rolled her hips down and tightened her grip on Emma’s wrist. Holding her firmly so her touch didn’t disappear. Regan might die if it did.

Emma gasped, then groaned, “Regan, fuck.”

Without Regan’s hand guiding her, Emma flexed her fingers against Regan. Rocking against her, intently, as she breathed, “You’re so wet; you’re soaking my fingers and I’m not eventouchingyou yet.”

“I know,” she panted back, rolling her hips down as she nodded, rapidly. “I know. I’m this wet for you every night. All of the time.”

She released Emma’s wrist, scratching her nails down her forearm.

“So, when I tell you that Iwant you, I mean it,” she grit out, swearing as Emma slid her fingertips, knowingly, right over her clit. “You can feel how much I mean it.”

Disappointment rolled through her when Emma’s touch disappeared, only to be replaced by elation a moment later. Because Emma’s hands went right to her own shirt, finishing the last of the buttons Regan hadn’t been able to get to, before she reached back…

Regan’s breath caught and held in her throat, the anticipation buzzing through her. Emma’s eyes stayed locked on hers, as she undid her bra, and slid it off.

“Jesus,” she breathed, and this trulydidfeel like a holy moment.

Emma’s breasts were luscious and supple and immediately, Regan reached out, palming them.

They were much more than a handful; at least, much more than Regan could fit in her hands. She cupped, first, wanting to feel their weight, before she stroked her fingertips over the bottom curve.

“You’re so soft,” she breathed, mesmerized by watching her own hands map every inch of Emma’s chest.

She circled her thumbs over Emma’s nipples. Nipples that were so hard, and somehow, even softer than her skin.

“You have breasts, too,” Emma murmured back, and there was a combination of amusement and heat in her tone. She could pretend Regan’s touch wasn’t igniting her inside the same as it was to Regan, but she couldfeelhow erratic Emma’s breathing was with every firm swipe Regan made over her nipples.

She shot Emma an admonishing look. “Not likethis.”

With that, she reached up to push Emma back against the couch, urging her to recline against the cushion. As soon as Emma did, Regan leaned in, so ready.

Ready to play out every want, every thought, every desire to explore Emma’s body that she’d had for weeks.

Voracious, she captured one of Emma’s nipples with her lips. Emma liked her lips; she’d told Regan multiple times. With that in mind, she wrapped them around Emma’s nipple and sucked, before releasing… lightly brushing over the very tip with her bottom lip.

She both felt and heard the long, whimpering moan that escaped Emma, and it fed even deeper into Regan’s hunger. She’d wondered for weeks if Emma was sensitive, how responsive she was. And now, she got to taste it. Got to feel it. The way Emma’s nipple got impossibly harder against her mouth, how Emma’s breath hitched and caught in her throat.

One of her hands roamed lower, stroking over Emma’s perfect curves – finally,finally,unhindered by a stitch of clothing – as the other continued to toy with Emma’s breast, rolling her nipple between her fingers, tugging on it. Testing out different things to see what got the best response from Emma.

Because Regan would be damned if she’d waited for so long – fantasized so many nights with Emma across the hall – and she didn’t take full advantage of this moment. This moment to confirm for herself how perfect this felt, to show Emma how raw her hunger truly was.

She planted open-mouthed kisses over the inner curve of Emma’s breast, before she licked up the center of her chest, every taste leaving Regan both satisfied and still wanting more.

Especially as one of Emma’s hands tightened in her hair, gripping but not moving Regan’s head anywhere. There was a neediness in her grip, the same that burned through Regan. She felt Emma’s other hand as she dug her nails into Regan’s shoulder, then scratched lower, over her shoulder blade, and Reganknewshe’d have scratches on her back.

The idea made her groan against Emma, her clit throbbing. Yes, she wanted to be marked by Emma. She wanted the physical reminder of their night, in any way possible. Every way possible.

She tasted Emma everywhere she possibly could in their position. Every inch of her chest, alternating sucking and lightly dragging her teeth over Emma’s nipples, feeling the way Emma’s hips jerked up against her.

And no matter how forcefully Regan rocked her own hips down, it wasn’t enough. She was aching and so wet, her underwear was so uncomfortable, and she wanted it alloff. She wanted everything off, desperately. She wanted not a single stitch left on either of them. She wanted – no, sheneeded– to stop running into the waist of Emma’s fucking pants, every time she stroked her fingers down, wanting so badly to be able to touch Emma’s thighs.

With that in mind, she forced herself to pull back.

It was hard as hell, because she didn’t want to give an inch of this closeness up.

Her lips tingled, craving Emma’s skin, as she stared down at Emma. Whose eyes were heavily lidded, her cheeks flushed, her naked chest moving so deliciously with every ragged breath she took.

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