Page 46 of Coach
To that, he shot me a raised-brow look that had heat flooding my system at just howintimatelyhe did, in fact, know me.
“You know what I mean.”
“I know plenty. And even if I didn’t, I know Trix deserves a good home, even if you aren’t able to take care of her anymore.”
That was fair.
And I felt like I knew Saul well enough to know he was the kind of man who was impeccable with his word.
“Okay. Thank you. That makes me feel a little better.”
Even after knowing he’d comforted me, though, that damn hand just stayed right there on my thigh. It was a few inches too high to be considered friendly. And the hold was just firm enough to feel possessive.
It wasn’t long before my hyper-fixation on noticing it was sending little shockwaves of need through my body until I felt it throbbing between my thighs—acute enough to have me shifting in my seat every so often.
I tried to focus on the music on the radio.
I tried to ground myself with things I could hear, feel, smell, and see.
But I was so surrounded by Saul that the little mindfulness exercise only made me even more turned on.
When shifting wasn’t enough, I found myself pressing my thighs together so hard that the muscles started to fatigue and shake.
“This is a weird direction,” I said when he turned off the main road and headed toward a more desolate area.
“This isn’t the way to the shelter,” he told me, turning off the side street and into a long, abandoned parking lot.
This was when, normally, my alarm bells would be ringing, when I would be thinking it was time to hop out of the truck and run for my life.
All I felt with Saul, though, was a gentle kind of curiosity.
“What is this?”
“Campgrounds, technically. But no one comes here. The water feature that used to be a big attraction dried up years back.”
“What are we doing here?” I asked, glancing around, not seeing a single soul save for a twitchy little squirrel digging around under a tree.
“We seem to have a problem.”
“Problem? Like with the car?” I asked.
“No, honey, not with the car.”
Before I could ask what he meant, though, his hand released my thigh to press between my legs. A surprised, whimpering gasp escaped me.
“You’ve been rocking around in your seat for the past twenty miles,” he said, his fingers pushing more firmly against me, eliciting a deeper moan. “I had a sneaking suspicion this may have been the reason why.”
“You… had your hand on my thigh,” I said through panting breaths as I tried to hold myself back from humping his damn hand; I was so desperate for more.
“And you couldn’t stop thinking about it sliding up,” he said, leaning closer. His other hand moved around me, trapping me. Like I had any intention of running away. “Of slipping under your pants and panties,” he went on, his hand gliding under my waistbands and down. “Of teasing down.”
His voice was a low rumble that I felt in my stomach, felt humming through my veins.
“Of seeing if you’re aching for me.”
“I am,” I sighed, too needy to care how desperate I sounded.
“Are you?” he asked, his dark eyes burning into mine.
