Page 17 of Uncharted Desires
But Sawyer isn’t one to admit defeat and the smugness returns to his face momentarily. His voice is calmer and he arches an eyebrow. “Who’s the bully now?”
“Still you.”
He chuckles humorlessly. “You better get off me.”
“Or what?”
And there’s that asshole smirk again. “Fuck around and find out.”
He shifts from foot to foot, and I realize the full length of my body is pressed against his. A stir forms in my groin, and this time, I know exactly what it means. Because I’ve felt it before.
And I’m not gonna let him have this one.
It’s like this unfamiliar surge of adrenalin rushes through me, and as scary as it is, I know exactly what I’m going to do. The only way I can try to put him in his place. The only way I know how.
How do I know? Well, I’ve learned from the master that’s currently pressed against a dirty wall.
I slowly release my hold and take a step back.
Sawyer doesn’t move, save for his heaving chest. I ignore his smirk. I ignore how his eyebrow rises in amusement. By now, I know it’s nothing by a façade. And I’m here to make him realize it as well.
I jerk my chin toward his torso. “Give me your jacket.”
“And why would I do that?”
And now it’s my turn to smirk. “Fuck around and find out.”
He lifts his chin, and there’s no doubt in my mind it’s to look down at me.
Well, guess what? It won’t work this time.
He peers at me for a few beats, and I can sense the wheels in his head turning before he pushes off the wall. Our bodies almost touch again as he unzips his leather jacket and shrugs it off his shoulders.
I stand my ground.
He hands it to me, and I take it, using my other hand to push him back against the wall. Making sure to maintain eye contact, I unfold the leather and drop it on the ground between us. And as his eyes lower, so do I until I kneel before him.
I can pinpoint exactly when his expression changes, usual smugness replaced by uncertainty for the very first time.And although I’m on my knees looking up, it’s as though I’m looking down at him at the same time.
And it’s fucking intoxicating.
I take my time, suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings.
Cold wind hits my heated cheek, and thunder breaks out somewhere in the cloudy sky.
I shoot him a one-sided smirk, mimicking his usual one, and slowly swipe my gaze down his frame, from his white V-neck wrapped snugly around his athletic torso to the front of his pants.
Something shifts underneath the fabric.
If you had asked me two weeks ago if I ever pictured myself on my knees in front of a man, bracing myself to crosse a line I never expected myself to get near, I’d tell you to get your head checked.
Yet here I am, my thoughts racing, and my senses sharpened as I reach out and marvel at the full-body shudder that goes through him when I slide my index finger along his progressively bulging pants.
And I love every second of it.
The sensation against my finger takes me by surprise. A hard, solid shape covered by soft, black fabric. Something I’ve never felt before.
It’s the sense of undeniable power that gets me the most.
