Page 37 of Little Did You Know

I flipped through channels, anything to keep my hands busy and my mind off the way she'd looked at dinner. The channels blurred past. Click. Sports. Click. News. Click. Infomercial. But her scent lingered. My fingers twitched at the memory of her hand brushing mine, that simple touch burning through me like whiskey.

Two hours of mindless TV couldn't drown out the memory of her scent when she'd leaned close. Vanilla. Something that made my hands itch to touch.

But I couldn't. She was so young, and she deserved more than a man who couldn't, wouldn't ever commit to her. She trusted me, and that trust was a weight pressing against my chest, making it hard to breathe.

Better to wear myself out with late-night ESPN than lie in bed thinking about her down the hall.

Clicking the remote, I shut off the TV and pushed off the couch. I was finally tired enough that I thought I might be able to sleep, but before I made it into my room, I heard it—a soft sound that stopped me in my doorway. A tiny whimper. My feet moved before my brain could catch up.

I told myself I was just checking on her, like I had when she was younger.

The difference was, back then, I hadn't noticed how the hallway light caught the curve of her shoulder through her open door. Hadn't been haunted by the way her sleep shorts rode up when she shifted. Hadn't felt this maddening pull that made each step toward her room feel like moving through molasses.

I eased myself down to the floor, just for a moment, just to make sure the nightmares had passed. The carpet scratched against my palm as I settled in, her steady breathing slowly matching mine in the darkness. My eyes grew heavy, the familiar scent of her shampoo making the hard floor feel deceptively comfortable.

Pain shot through my hip as a warm weight crashed into me. Pure instinct had me reaching out to catch her, but that instinct betrayed me the moment she landed. Her body molded against mine like she was made to fit there.

My hands found her waist, and the heat of her skin through silk made my fingers flex involuntarily. Every point of contact burned into my memory—the press of her thighs, the flutter of her breath against my neck, the way she trembled slightly under my touch.

"Nick." My name on her lips was barely a whisper, but it echoed in the stillness of the room. Her fingertips found my face in the darkness, mapping the contours like she was memorizing them. The touch was feather-light, hesitant, until she reached my lips.

I caught each finger with gentle kisses, letting myself taste her skin. Every point of contact sent electricity coursing through my veins. My pulse thundered so loud I was sure she could hear it.

Moonlight spilled through the window, catching the question in her eyes.

"Yeah?" The word came out rougher than I intended.

"What are you doing on the floor?" Each word was a caress of warm breath against my lips.

Three inches separated us.

Three inches of space crackling with everything we couldn't say.

I swallowed hard, trying to remember all the reasons this was a bad idea. "I heard..." The rest of the explanation died in my throat as her thumb traced my bottom lip. "Nightmare. Thought you were having one. I wanted to make sure you were okay." The fragments of sentences were all I could manage with her touch scrambling my thoughts.

Something shifted in her expression—vulnerability mixed with a flash of determination that made my heart stutter. We were balanced on a knife's edge, and I knew whatever happened next would change everything.

My hands roamed down to where I found naked skin, gripping her ass as her fingertip traced over my jaw down my throat to my chest.

My hands tightened around her, and I flipped, pinning her beneath me. My lips captured hers in a hot, possessive kiss. A small moan escaped her lips, and I swallowed it as she opened for me. My tongue dipped past her lips, tasting and teasing until her tongue met mine, tangling together.

She tasted so fucking good.

I wanted her; my body was desperate, my hands roaming, and my mouth commanding her submission. The sweet warmth of her tongue flicked over mine, and I released a feral growl.

Tearing my mouth from hers, she inhaled a sharp breath as if she couldn't find enough air as I ran my lips over her jawline, nipping slowly and down to her neck.

I pressed my cock into her. "Do you feel that?" I groaned as I took possession of it again. She hummed a reply, implying she did as her hips arched up into me. "I want you."

I traced the curve of her jaw with my lips, barely touching, letting my breath warm her skin. "Remember what we talked about?" The words ghosted against her pulse point. "About… Touching yourself?" Her slight shiver traveled through both of us. "Did you ever...?" I left the question unfinished, letting the anticipation build in the spaces between words.

Her head fell back, exposing more of her throat. "No." The admission came with an arch of her body, pressing herself closer, seeking more contact. The innocent desperation in her movement froze me in place. Reality crashed back like a bucket of ice water. I couldn't do this. I couldn't fuck her.

Pulling myself off her, I grabbed her around the waist and hoisted her to her feet. I had another idea, though. Though my body was screaming to fuck her, and I was hard as a rock, I wasn't going to touch her, but I was going to watch while she touched herself. I moved to the window and opened the curtains so that the full moon shone brightly through the window, illuminating the room perfectly.

"What's the matter?" Her chest rose and fell rapidly, moonlight catching the sheen of sweat on her collarbone.

"Take off your nightgown." The command emerged rough-edged, scraping across the delicate silence between us. Her fingers twitched against the silk, but she didn't move—caught between hesitation and something darker, hungrier.

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