Page 37 of Daring the Defender

“Is that good?” he asks, voice gruff in my ear.

I nod, and he pulls me back just an inch, making me sink back into his hard chest.

His hands rub over the caps of my shoulders, and down to my arms, turning my muscles into jelly. My T-shirt is thin and I’m aware of how every pass he makes tightens my nipples. I want to cover myself, but I don’t want to draw attention. Maybe he won’t notice, or maybe my body feels so relaxed, so good that I’m willing to pretend.

Then, like a string pulling against my spine, I chase his touch and arch my back.

Reid’s hands still, and behind me I hear a deep inhale and then a strained, “Fuck, Shelby.”

No one has ever whispered my name like that, but there’s no doubt of the intention. His knuckles lightly brush over the side of my boob and I feel a zing of heat travel straight between my legs.

“Has a man ever touched you like this before?” he asks, continuing to trail his knuckles gently in the same spot.

“No,” I admit, too turned on to be embarrassed at my inexperience.

“Not David?” His fingers are clenched around my biceps.

“Definitely not.” I exhale. “He wouldnever.”

The video comes to an end, but rolls into the next one, some kind of hockey highlight show. I’d stopped paying attention long ago, and even though I can’t see Reid’s face, I can tell he’s singularly focused on me.

“He’s either a masochist, a saint, or gay,” he remarks, “because I’m not that strong.” The pain in my neck has vanishedand I only feel the heat of his breath on my ear. “Tell me to leave, Shelby.”

I should. I shouldn’t have ever invited him in here in the first place. But I did. Iwantedto.

I also don’t want him to stop.

“Stay,” I say in a voice I don’t recognize.

His fingers find my chin and he turns my face to his, until our eyes meet. “You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

I wait for him to give me some relief, to touch the parts of me that are craving more, but he goes back to what he was doing before, massaging my arms with firm strokes. “Relax,” he says quietly, nudging me to lie against his chest. “Good girl.”

His fingers drape over my shoulders, making tiny circles, dipping lower and lower with each pass. Desperately, I arch my back, and his hands meet my body, cupping my breasts.

“Still okay?” he asks, thumbs dangerously close to my nipples.

“Mmhmm.”

“Tell me what you want, Shelby.”

I fight the urge to squirm as heat builds in my lower belly. “I don’t know.”

“I think you do.”

He’s right, but it goes against everything in my nature to verbalize it. When I don’t speak he asks, “Here?” and circles the hard peaks, while still not touching them.

My body tenses, as if I ease up, I may completely lose control. “You’re teasing me.”

“It’s called consent, Shelby.” His chin, prickly and unshaved, brushes against a bare spot on my shoulder. “And I’m sure as fuck going to get it from you. Not just because it’s the right thing to do, but because you need to learn how to speak up for thethings you want.” His fingers continue to make those lazy circles. “So tell me, do you want me to touch, suck, or fuck your tits?”

That one sentence is enough to tip my world on its axis. I know he’s being dirty on purpose, trying to shock me into a reaction, but all it does is embolden me. I know I’m not ready for the second two, but I’m confident enough to say, “I want your hands on my tits.”

There’s no more messing around and Reid finally gives me what I’ve been craving. His hands are firm as they knead my breasts and squeeze them together. I watch him skim his thumbs over the cotton covered nipples, drawing them into tighter peaks. My belly flip flops, churning with an explosion of butterflies, but most of all, I notice how each touch sends a rush of warmth between my legs. This time I can’t hide the squirm, and clamp my knees together.

“It’s making you wet,” he says, describing what I feel. “Every time I touch you here,” he gently tweaks a nipple, “you feel it in your pussy, don’t you?”

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