Page 48 of The Hearts We Fumble
“Do you have any idea how hard it’s been to get you out of my head?” Each word is thick with frustration.
My heart stutters, pounding against my ribs. I shake my head, my breath catching in my throat.
His lips curve, but there’s no amusement in it. Only something darker, heavier. “Why does it feel like you get off on pushing my buttons?”
He leans in, dragging the bridge of his nose along my cheek, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to breathe me in, like he’s starved for something he shouldn’t want.
“Are you trying to drive me fucking crazy, Wy?”
“N-no.” The word barely makes it past my lips, shaky and unsure.
“I don’t believe you.”
His foot nudges between mine, tapping my boot, his silent demand clear. Without hesitation, I spread my legs, my body obeying him before my mind even catches up.
His hand slides down, the backs of his fingers grazing the front of my jeans, the heat of his touch searing through the denim.
“All night,” he murmurs, voice like gravel, “all I could think about was how hot your pussy felt against me. How badly I wanted to see how wet you were for me.”
I tip my head back, the cool siding biting against my scalp, my lashes fluttering shut as my body betrays me, aching for more.
“Does that turn you on, baby?” His voice dips lower, a whisper of sin against my ear. “Tell me—did you touch yourself after I left?”
“Oh God, Zane,” I moan, the sound spilling from my lips before I can stop it.
His hand tightens on my waist, his breath ragged. “That’s right, baby. It’s me.”
I swallow hard, my pulse hammering. He waits, his grip firm, his presence suffocating in the best way.
“Yes,” I confess, my cheeks burning. “I waited for you, hoping you’d change your mind and come back. When you didn’t…” My voice falters, my body trembling. “I couldn’t take it anymore.”
Zane groans, his forehead dropping against mine for half a second before he tilts his chin, his lips hovering over my cheek.
“Fuck,” he mutters, his palm flattening against the front of my jeans. “I can feel how hot you are through the denim.”
A whimper catches in my throat, my legs threatening to give out.
Why does he have to do this now? Here—when we’re only a couple hundred feet away from our friends? When the heat between us is suffocating, undeniable, and impossible to control?
Why not when I’m somewhere we could take our time and enjoy it?
“Turn around,” Zane orders, and without thinking, I do as he says.
It takes me a second to realize he’s dropped to his knees, but when he rakes his fingers up my thighs and grabs my ass, I moan again.
I want his hands all over me. Everywhere. I don’t want a single inch left untouched.
He reaches around, between me and the garage, and unbuttons my pants. I help him by unzipping them, earning me a “Good girl.”
When he tugs my pants down my thighs until they're at my ankles, I groan. His heated breath feathers along my cool skin, his fingers dragging up my inner thighs.
“Fuck,” he curses. “You’re soaked for me. Even your thighs are slick with how turned on you are.”
I bite my bottom lip hard enough to sting, muffling the moan threatening to spill from my mouth. My entire body is on fire, my knees threatening to buckle, but his strong grip keeps me steady.
He presses a kiss to my hip, his stubble scraping against my sensitive skin, sending a fresh wave of heat coursing through me.
“Lean over farther for me, firecracker. Arch your back and stick your ass out.”
