Page 30 of After All

His other hand slid over her cheek, bare now that she was bent and the skirt had pulled up. That hand also served to hold her in place. He wasn’t letting her move back, or forward away from his touch either—not that she would think of movingaway. He ran his finger over her again and again, but the pressure wasn’t hard, it wasn’t quite in the right place, it wasn’tenough.

“Scott,” she said. “Stop playing.”

“Oh, hell no. I’m definitely playing. And you’re not going to rush me this time.”

This time? She’d rushed him last time because they’d been outside, screwing around—literally—on the hood of his car, and she’d been afraid he was going to come to his senses and change his mind. She had to admit being worried about that a little here too.

“Sco—”

Then he turned his hand and his middle finger pressed against her clit.

His name turned into a moan and she shifted against his finger, needing more friction. He let her move for a moment, then pulled his hand away.

“Hey, I—”

She felt the hot press of his mouth against her butt cheek. He kissed, then licked, then bit gently. “There, I’ve kissed your ass,” he said. “Now turn around.”

She straightened, her head feeling a little dizzy as she did it, but she wasn’t sure it was from the movement. Guys said their blood all went from their brains to their cocks. Well, the same could be said of girls. Her pulse was pounding through her whole body, she was achy and hot and wet between her legs, her nipples tingled—but she didn’t think she had any blood circulating in her brain. Because she was ready to doanythingScott asked her to do. And she didn’t generally take orders very well.

She turned and was stunned by the heat in his gaze. She’d seen him worked up and turned on before, but this was next-level hot.

“I know you said you wanted to be pulled into my lap,” he said, his eyes tracking up her body, from the strip of bare skin below the top to the valley of her breasts, then up to her face. “But I’m not sure that’s gonna work at the moment.”

His leg. Right. Peyton wet her lips and prepared to respond…

But he said, “I think we can make do though.”

Well, hallelujah.

He moved her to straddle his left, uninjured thigh.

“Pull your skirt up and open your top.”

The firm, commanding tone was familiar. The words were not. And shereallyliked both. Peyton opened the top first, just because she couldn’t becompletelycompliant, undoing the three snaps that held it together, barely, over her breasts. For Halloween, she’d worn a red bra underneath that had shown through the white material faintly and had played peek-a-boo at the V in front. Today, she hadn’t. She parted the top, baring her breasts.

Scott sucked in a breath through his nose, his eyes darkening. But he said nothing.

Leaving the top on but open, she lifted the hem of the skirt. Not that she had to go far to show him everything. The skirt was ridiculously short and had definitely required a good wax job.

Shirt open, skirt lifted, stockings and heels on, she felt naughty and turned on, powerful and yet completely ready to submit to anything he asked. Her effect on him was heady. At the same time, she wasn’t sure she’d everneededsomeone the way she needed Scott.

She was used to affecting men. She knew that it went back to the days when she hadn’t felt wanted, and needed to know that someone wanted her for something. She’d grown past using her body and sexuality to get her way—well, unless she was teasing and tormenting Scott, of course. But that was just because he did the same thing to her. Even if it was unintentional some of the time. She still liked to flirt and she loved sex, but if she was completely honest with herself—something she wasn’t all that good at, actually—she hadn’t really been into anyone since she’d realized how she felt about Scott.

She wet her lips, watching him look at her. He seemed to just be drinking in the sight. She wanted to tell him that he could see her like this every day. Hell, all day long if he wanted to. He could also see her completely naked. And spread out on his bed. Or his kitchen table. But for some reason, she wanted to let him talk here. Tell her what he wanted. What he needed.

Finally, he blew out a breath. “Damn, you really are trouble, you know that?”

She smiled. Trouble had always sounded like an endearment to her.

He lifted a hand and cupped her breast, running his thumb over the tip. She moaned and he smiled.

“Love that sound.”

When had a man’svoiceturned her on so much? It was crazy the way his voice and that husky tone made heat swirl through her belly and shoot straight to her clit.

He played with her nipple, his eyes locked on hers, and Peyton was also struck by the fact that she wasn’t sure having a hand on her breast had ever felt this intimate. That sounded stupid—people touching each other’s naked body parts should always feel intimate. But with him watching her, as if wanting to read every response to every touch, it felt likemore.

Of course it did. This was Scott.

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