Page 86 of Test the Ice
“You lyin’ to me, Dimples?”
I hear her mouth open and then close again. It takes her a few seconds to answer me.
“I’m…distracted,” she admits.
Heat rushes my veins, and a raspy hum vibrates my throat. “Are you calling me a distraction?”
She scoffs. “You know you are.”
I shrug from behind her, doing my best to keep a little bit of space between her ass and my dick. “That wasn’t my plan. But I have to admit it’s a good one.”
Reese shifts, and we’re flush again.
“We should go.” The three words slip out from in between my teeth on their own.
I don’t want to go, but I’m antsy. My fingers beg to graze more of her body, and all I want to do is grind against her so she can feel how hard I am.
The thought of driving her ex mad gets me off too.
Before she has a chance to move away, I do something impulsive. As if my hand has a mind of its own, it sweeps against the satin fabric of her dress, brushes against the curve of her breast and ends at her chin. With my index finger, I angle her face toward her shoulder where my mouth is waiting.
A surprised noise slips from her, but instead of pulling away, she sweeps her tongue against mine to deepen the kiss.
My knees nearly give out.
Fuck.
I dig my fingers into her hip, and she quickly snaps out of it.
Our kiss ends, and her cheeks burst with heat.
My nostrils flare. “You ready?”
One sharp nod and we’re heading outside.
The fresh air sweeps against my heated skin, and I quickly shrug my jacket off to roll my sleeves. I’m hot and bothered, and she knows it.
“Sorry.” She nervously pulls on a stray hair that fell into her face. “I got a little carried away with the storyline.”
The valet pulls up with my car, but instead of acknowledging him, I reach out and grab onto Reese’s wrist. She stops mid-step toward the passenger door.
“Never apologize for kissing me,” I say.
Her attention moves below my waist where she felt an obvious bulge a second ago.
Instead of being ashamed and acting guilt-stricken, I chuckle. I erase the space between us and wrap my arm aroundher waist while opening the passenger door with my other hand. “Don’t worry about me,” I whisper into her ear. “I know how to take care of myself.”
She shifts, and we make eye contact.
The remorse in her eye is gone, and in its place is something so enticing I’m half-tempted to spin her around, press her against the side of my car, and grab that delicious thigh of hers that’s been playing peek-a-boo all night and wrap it around my waist.
Jesus.
I am acting insane.
“Do me a favor and stop looking at me like that.” I press on her waist and guide her into the car.
When she’s tucked inside, I pull the seatbelt and drape it across her body justto get close to her again. For once, she doesn’t put up a fight about me doing something for her. She lets me buckle her in without so much as a huff.
