Page 63 of Roads Behind Us
I snorted. “’Scuse me? What did you just say?”
“Get naked and sit backward in the chair so the wood slats hide your bits and bobbles.” He winked, and then he showed his hand—his tongue peeked out and slipped over his lip and he scraped it with his teeth, like two years ago, when I’d dealt him a royal flush. Only, that night, he’d been too drunk to know the power of his hand.
Tonight, he’d figured it out.
Two can play at your game, bucko.
Facing him, I sat in the chair to remove my boots and socks, and then I stood. I kicked them away and turned, and my hair cascaded down my back when I lifted my sweatshirt over my head. I tossed it next to my boots, noticing the dried mud on the soles and vowing silently to sweep and mop for him tomorrow.
With one hand, I spun the chair away from the bed. It scraped over the old hardwood, and I watched Bax over my shoulder while I unhooked my bra and let it fall down my arms to the floor. I kicked it away and unbuttoned my jeans.
His Adam’s apple bobbed as I pushed the denim over my hips, but I lost my view of his face when I bent in front of the bed, dragging my jeans to the floor, giving him an unobstructed view of my ass. I left my undies on, though, ’cause no way was I sitting on that rough wood with no barrier. I straightened slowly, stepped out of the jeans, and walked behind the chair.
Slowly I turned, looking right in his eyes, and gripped the chairback with both hands, then spread my legs over the seat.
He groaned while I used the power of my thighs to lower myself inch by inch until the cold wood bit at my ass cheeks, and then I sat and rolled my hips to get semi-comfortable.
“Now let your legs fall open. Sit up straight.”
I steeled my spine, and his hand moved to hover over the bulge beneath his ridiculous maroon track pants. He adjusted his hard-on, but then he picked up his baggie of pencils and searched through it till he found the one he wanted.
His eyes rose to mine. “Mess up your hair a little.”
Dragging a hand through my hair, I rustled it and let it fall where it wanted.
“Fuck, Bea. Yeah, that’s it.” He sat forward and pulled his phone from his pocket, then snapped three pictures of me.
“What’s that for?”
He smirked. “Just for reference.”
The girls’ giggles danced down the hall and through the air every now and then, but silence ruled the moment. Bax began to draw, and I sat there, still as stone, loving how his eyes lifted every few seconds to capture me. They caressed and slipped all over my skin, and I’d never felt more beautiful.
His soft gaze landed on mine, and the desire I saw painted across his face had my body heating up. I rolled my hips again, trying to squeeze my thighs to ease some of the ache building between them.
He lifted his baggie again and found a different pencil. After a few strokes, it wasn’t working for him, so he tossed it onto the bed, then reached back in and dug out a broken piece of charcoal.
Sketching with it, he used his index and middle fingers occasionally to smudge what he’d drawn. He was into it, working furiously, his fingers trying to move as fast as his eyes. I didn’t mind him being so distracted since the thing distracting him was my body.
He’d been at it for at least twenty minutes, and it had begun to feel like my muscles would ossify. I arched my back and stretched my arms up in the air, laced my fingers together, and my breasts pushed out in front of me.
Bax looked up when the chair creaked, and he froze, his gaze traveling frantically all over my body, but finally, it landed on my face. “Yeah, sweetheart. That’s it. Stay like that. Don’t fuckin’ move.”
Charcoal dust covered his hands and fingers. He reached up to scratch beside his nose and left streaks and black smudges on his cheek. He bent his neck, concentrating on some detail, but then he pushed his sketchpad away. It fell onto the bedcovers, and he scooted to the side.
“Is it done?”
“No,” he said as he stood and grabbed his crutches leaning against the wall. He opened his bedside drawer, and my heart kicked into overdrive. Was he getting what I thought he was?
I stayed perfectly unmoving, arms still raised, back still arched, legs spread wide and propped up on the tips of my toes. My nipples were as hard as ice, but the wetness his eyes on my body had caused warmed the insides of my thighs.
Bax came to the end of the bed. He sat, set his crutches on the mattress behind him, and then he straightened, crooked his finger at me, and spread his legs. “Come to me.”
I stood and lowered my arms, but I rolled my shoulders and my neck from side to side. Bax growled softly and scooted a few inches backward.
As I began to step toward him, he said, “Slow now. I need to watch you move. All of you.”
I stalked forward as slowly as I could, and his eyes ate me up. He didn’t miss one movement I made.
