Page 7 of Brazen Mistakes

“What are you doing now, sugar?” RJ asks.

Right. I have to narrate. “I’m waiting for the water to get hot.”

“How are you passing the time?”

This feels so weird, but also good. Sexy. “I’m taking off my sweaty, dirty clothes.”

“This will sound crazy, but I love the way you smell.”

“What do I smell like?”

A small sigh escapes him. “Like springtime and hope.”

“Oh.”

“How’s the water? Is it warm enough?”

“Yeah. I’m putting you on speaker.” I click the button and set the phone on the stool.

“Imagine I’m in the room, in the corner, watching you. Does that make you hot?”

I can imagine it, see him there, his amber eyes hooded with desire. Every muscle in my body tenses. “I wish you really were here,” I murmur as I tie up my hair and step into the spray.

“Me too. I can grab my dad’s car and come get you. It’s not too late, sugar.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I let the water sluice over my face for a moment. “No. I don’t want to be an awkward hanger-on at Christmas. This is all too new. I’m fine. And anyway, I’m sure your parents wouldn’t be on board with us doing, well, this, if I’m there.”

His laugh eases some of the dread that’s crept up on me. “No, probably not.” There’s another rustle, and a sigh. “Are you in the shower yet?”

“Yeah.”

“Excellent. You’ll have to lather yourself up with whatever flowery stuff you have that smells so good. Where are you going to start?”

Grabbing my body wash, I go to do my normal, perfunctory scrub down, but knowing RJ’s listening, that he’s imagining me naked and covered in soap, it makes all my nerve endings tingle. I slow down. “I think I’ll wash from the top down.”

“Mmm. I imagine there are a few places that are extra dirty, that are going to need a little extra attention.”

A smile stretches across my face. “You’re right. I can think of a few places that need lots of extra attention.” My breath turns jagged at the innuendo, but I don’t hide it. RJ wants to hear what he’s doing to me.

“Wash those beautiful breasts for me, sweetness. Tell me what it feels like with them wet and heavy in your hands.”

I shudder, spiraling my hands around my breasts like he asks me to. “They feel soft and warm. Touching them is making me drenched and antsy.”

“And your nipples?” His breath matches mine, short tight pants bouncing through the small room.

“They’re so hard they almost hurt.”

“Goddamn, Clara. You’re so fucking beautiful. Pinch your nipples for me.”

I do, and the moan that escapes would embarrass me if I were any less turned on. But I’m all the way turned on from nothing but RJ’s rasped directions whispered over the phone.

“Sugar, when I get back, I’m going to spend hours with your breasts. I’m going to lick them, suck them, even bite them if you’ll let me. Would you like that?”

“God yes, RJ.”

“Good.”

Both of us pant into the silence. “Are you—” I stutter, not wanting to sound prissy with “touching yourself,” and not wanting to be clinical with “masturbating.” “Um.”

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