Page 30 of Show Me How
Why did you really run out earlier?
My mouth goes dry as I stare at the message, rereading it. The heat crawling up my body is welcomed, even if I’m now too hot beneath the blanket.
I already told you why.
That was an obvious lie. I just didn’t want to push you too hard by demanding a real answer.
How generous of you.
Princess . . .
Playboy.
The hoodie doesn’t smell like him anymore after Lacey washed it with my other clothes. But as I zone in on the rapid rise and fall of my chest, I swear I can smell the manly cologne still lingering on the fabric. The heavy weight of it feels uncomfortable on my breasts, and I swallow thickly when my nipples rub beneath it.
The game is about answering the questions you’re asked, not ignoring them.
Fine. I was overwhelmed.
Did I do something wrong?
No. Not wrong. I’m just not used to hearing things like what you said.
It’s an understatement, but still the truth.
What exactly was it I said that freaked you out?
You know what I’m talking about.
I need you to say it just in case I’m wrong.
It was about you sleeping with women.
What about it?
Stop trying to rile me up.
Is it working?
I blink at the screen and then look down at where the hoodie has risen up my stomach. I’ve unconsciously kicked the blankets down my ankles, and my panties are exposed, the pale pink lace soft instead of rough. I palm my abdomen and follow the warm skin up beneath the heavy fabric. My breast is large despite my smaller stature and overflows in my hold.
Replying with only one hand is complicated, but I can’t get myself to bring the other one back.
Is that the only time you do it?
The only time I do what, princess?
Sleep with someone.
Usually.
But not always?
My fingers dance over my nipple, resuming their soft tug from the shower. I clench between my legs before pressing them together, rubbing lightly.
There are always exceptions to every rule.
Like what?
