Page 208 of Rock Me All Night
I stare at him, waiting.
He shakes his head like he finds me ridiculous. "Please, stretch my hamstrings. I'll do you after."
"Tell me when." I wrap one hand around his thigh—his hard, muscular thigh—and the other around his calf, and I push his leg toward his chest until he groans.
"Ugh. When! When!" He makes eye contact.
I silently count to twenty. We switch and I stretch his other leg. He lets out the same delicious groan.
So. Not. Going. There.
I go to push myself up. Drew grabs my upper arms and wrestles me onto my back. Once I'm flat, he kneels next to me, slides his hands around my upper thigh, and pushes my leg to my chest.
He moves slowly, waiting for my when. "Jesus, Kara. Can you get this thing behind your head?"
"Sometimes."
His voice gets lower. "That must come in handy."
I swallow hard. He shifts so he's putting his weight into the stretch, so he's right on top of me. His crotch hovers a few inches from mine.
The stretch gets deeper. It's about as much as I can take, but I can't bear to say anything that will move Drew's body away from mine.
My eyes flutter closed. I focus on the pull of my muscle. Slow inhale. Slow exhale. So my every bit of breath goes to my hamstring.
He shifts off me slowly and brings my leg back to the ground. His fingertips trail down my thighs. He's going in the opposite direction, but he's still too close to the scars.
He moves to my other leg. Grabs it right at the upper thigh and lifts it. "Truth or truth?"
"Wow, those are a lot of options." My muscle strains. I bite my lip to keep from groaning. "Truth."
He leans his weight into my leg, his hands still firmly around my thigh. "How close are guys' hands allowed to get to your cunt?"
"I thought we agreed to drop this."
"I'm curious."
"Bring me a shot, because I'm not answering."
"Say we were about to have sex." He slides his fingertips an inch up my thigh. "Would this be okay?"
He's about three inches from the scars. "Drop it."
I motion for him to release the stretch. He does. Slowly.
He stares into my eyes. His voice gets soft. "You don't have to tell me why."
I rise to my feet. "I wasn't going to."
He jumps to his feet and grabs my wrist. The left one. I pull it to my chest. No watch today. No arm bands. Nothing to cover that particular set of scars.
"Why do you do that?" he asks.
"No reason."
"Bullshit."
"Bring me the shot, because I'm not telling you that either."
