Page 78 of Between the Lines

I do what he says. He’s kneeling between my legs, and he tugs my gray sweatpants down my thighs. They only get as far as my thighs before he groans.

“Fuck.” His hand glides to my hip, fingering the light blue lace. “You wear these little thongs everyday?”

“Yes.”

“Even to work? In my office?”

“They don’t leave panty lines,” I whisper.

His gaze is locked on my body, between my legs. He curses again and pulls my sweats completely off, tossing them somewhere behind us. And then he lowers himself back down, his lips finding mine.

“If I’d known, I wouldn’t have gotten any work done,” he says darkly. He lifts himself on his elbow and reaches his other hand to cup between my legs.

He strokes the length of me through the lace, up and down. So gentle is the friction in contrast to what I need, that I push up and against his hand.

It’s hard to breathe. I try to anyway. “I’ve got you, Chaos,” he murmurs.

He pulls my thong to the side. “Fuck,” he mutters, his fingers stroking my sensitive skin. Over and over, the pads of his fingers just a bit scratchy, but so gentle it makes me want to scream.“I’ve been dreaming of this.”

I grip his shoulders tight. “You have?”

“Of your pussy? Your quick breaths in my ear? Yes. All the time. You’ve been distracting as hell.” His thumb finds my swollen clit. He pushes down on it, and the air catches in my lungs at the shockwave of sensation.

“That’s it,” he murmurs. “That’s the reaction I’ve been craving.”

His fingers start to circle, and it doesn’t take long for my breathing to turn into panting. That would be embarrassing if I could think straight.

I feel like someone else. Both inside my body and firmly outside of it. Lying here on my back, in Aiden’s house. My legs bent and splayed, and his large hand moving between them.

The lights are still on. They gild his black hair, and I grip the strands even tighter. It feels like it’s the only connection I have to reality. The silky roughness of his hair and the need coursing through me at every revolution of his thumb.

“You’re so sweet.” He bends to kiss my collarbone again. My chest. His mouth tugs at the neckline of my camisole, pulling it further down the slight rise of my breasts. “Sweet and fierce, and both sides turn me the fuck on.”

His hand never stops touching me. He’s lavishing my clit with steady pressure, like he justknowsthat’s what I need, and my back arches into his touch.

“The way you walked into that movie premiere.” His mouth is moving south, across my stomach. He feathers over the bare skin below the edge of my tank top. “The way you give as good as you get.”

He continues a downward path.

A sliver of panic races through me. It’s a memory that doesn’t belong here, but that’s chased me for years. I grip his hair so hard it must hurt. “No. Aiden, I don’t… Please don’t.”

He looks up from my hip. His eyes are the darkest I’ve ever seen them, intensely green.

“You don’t want me going down on you?” he asks.

The words are embarrassing. But I nod. “Yeah. I don’t… enjoy it.”

He kisses my stomach again—once, twice. Starts moving back up. “Don’t worry,” he murmurs. “I won’t.”

He stretches out beside me and braces himself with his free arm. Kisses me in languid, deep strokes. My stiff muscles relax again under his lips and the steady, delicious pressure of his hand.

“Can I do… this?” His fingers move down the length of my folds, stroking around my entrance.

“Yes,” I whisper.

“And this?” He pushes his index finger in, up to the first knuckle.

A breath escapes me at the teasing tension. “Yes.Please.”

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