Page 44 of Someone to Have
“You don’t have to?—”
Her voice cuts off as my fingers graze the waistband of her stretchy pants. “Let me,” I whisper. “I want to touch you. To make you feel good.”
She makes a humming sound in her throat that makes me want to drop to my knees in front of her.
“Is that a yes?”
She presses a palm to my chest like she’s grounding herself in me. Or maybe she’s grounding both of us because my head is in the fucking clouds waiting for her answer. “Mmm-hmmm,” she murmurs finally.
I trail my mouth along her jawline at the same time I dip my fingers lower. Over the swell of her belly and under the lacy edge of her panties.
“Jesus, you’re already wet.”
She shivers and lets out a little whimper. “Is that bad?”
“No, sweetheart.” I pull back until she meets my gaze, and Idon’t try to hide how much I want her. Not in this moment. “It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever felt.”
I trace one finger along her center then circle it over her clit. She lets out a small cry—so sensitive—and I wrap one arm around her waist just in case she needs the support. But I’m the one who needs it when she presses an open-mouthed kiss to my neck and gently sucks. Shit, that’s going to leave a mark. One I won’t be able to hide. But there’s no damn way I’m stopping her. My fingers find a rhythm, and her hips roll back and forth like she’s working herself over on my hand. It’s so fucking hot.
I claim her mouth again, kissing her and stroking her and…I’m back to feeling like a teenager ready for–
No.
This is about her.
I push one, then two fingers inside her while my thumb takes over against her clit. Her hips are moving faster now, and she’s kissing me with a mindless abandon that I could definitely get used to. Then she goes stiff, cries out, and I feel her clamp around my fingers. The satisfaction that rolls through me is like nothing I’ve ever felt.
She sags against my chest, and I pull my hand out of her pants and wrap her in a tight hug. “You’re beautiful, Tink. The prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“You need to get out more,” she says softly.
I know she means it as a joke, but I hate that it’s made at her expense.
“Nowhere I’d rather be.” I drop a kiss on the top of her head, then frown as she steps away from me.
“I should go,” she says, straightening her sweatshirt. “I’m meeting some friends later.”
“Oh.” Well, hell. Why did I think she and I would be spending the rest of the night together? I should know better. I should be better.
“Um…do you need help with your…” I wave a hand at the workbench “…project thing.”
“I think you’ve done more than enough for me tonight.” She leans in and gives me a peck on the cheek, then walks away like she didn’t just come apart in my arms.
More than enough? Oh, hell, no. It might be wrong, and it might mean me breaking promises left and right, but Tinkerbell and I have barely scratched the surface. Not even close.
12
TAYLOR
Rhett showsup at the library alone the next day, and a pang of disappointment hits me ridiculously hard. It’s stupid because Eric did the same thing last weekend, but now the absence feels pointed and I can’t help wondering if he’s avoiding me after what happened between us in the workshop last night.
The pleasure blew my mind, but the way he touched me did more than curl my toes. It felt like he was giving me something of himself along with that earth-shattering release.
Even better, I slept like a baby last night. No naked stage nightmares. Not even a random sex dream featuring my confidence coach. Instead, I got a restful nine hours and woke with more energy than I've had since volunteering to be the next bucket list victim.
Okay, victim isn't the right word, but that's how I've been feeling. In the past few days, my mind has been racing with all the ways I could fail, disappointing not just Sloane but confirming every doubt I've ever had about myself. Only this morning, everything feels fantastic.
Don, who runs the library with about as much subtlety as Dwight Schrute inThe Office, meanders over to the children's areajust before I’m about to start reading the first picture book. I spot him from the corner of my eye, his perpetual scowl zeroed in on me like a dark cloud. He has two of the library's biggest donors flanking him—Iris's future grandfather-in-law, Gilbert Byrne, and Gloria Johnson, a local celebrity thanks to her tenure as a popular U.S. Senator decades earlier.
