Page 64 of This Thing Between Us

We both gasped for air.

“Whitney,” I whispered, before greedily going back for more.

Her body shifted as if she was desperate for more. My hands tightened possessively around her waist. My hands splayed across her ribs, just grazing her breasts. Whitney arched her back in response. My fingers twitched, tempted to remove her shirt so that I could finally get access to her nipples, which had been hard on and off all day.

My pants grew tighter and tighter and when she grinded on me again, I nearly lost it. Slowly my fingers trailed down to her waistline. Itching for skin.

Whitney nibbled on my ear, while muttering a firm “yes.” With one hand I unbuttoned her pants, moving them a little lower to gain better access. Whitney swayed her hips as if to help. The scent of vanilla overwhelmed me as my lips touched her temple, her chin and then neck. My lips held there as my fingers slid their way underneath her barely there panties, the sheer material making me groan.

Did Whitney wear this kind of lingerie all the time or just around me?

My fingers met her wet heat. She was ready for me, but I went slow all the same, slipping one finger into her tight pussy. Whitney sighed as I moved my finger slowly in and out of her. When I knew she could handle me, I slipped in a second digit, sending her rocking back and forth, fucking my fingers. Caressing her.

It was wet and loud, and I wanted all of her.

My erection strained against my pants. If we kept this up, I’d be liable to behave like a preteen discovering masturbation for the first time.

“Faster,” Whitney demanded, and I picked up the speed. I wet my thumb and placed it on her clit, rubbing slow, torturous circles. “Yes, more.”

I did as she asked and within thirty seconds Whitney’s breathing changed, becoming more erratic. I knew she was almost there, so I crashed my mouth back to hers as I hooked my fingers just a little more. Her convulsions rocked her body, and I kept my fingers firmly inside her as she did, while her arms wrapped around me to steady herself.

After a few seconds of collecting herself, she leaned back, her arms outstretched as she looked me in the eye and said, “Holy shit.”

A laugh burst from my chest. “You could say that again.”

I rubbed my hand up and down her back, just wanting to keep touching her. It took all the restraint in the world to stop myself from taking this further.

A wave of confusion swept over her face, and I wanted to rub away the deep line forming between her brows.

The last thing I wanted was for her to retreat on me. We still had a hell of a lot of catching up to do and I needed to reconcile the fact that I just made my best friend come all over my fingers.

For me, this was just the beginning for us. A new start, a rekindling of our friendship and if I had anything to say about it, more than that. Whitney deserved one hell of a partner and I planned to be that for her.

The national weather broadcast would like to announce the lifting of the tornado warning. It is now safe to leave your shelters. I repeat, the tornado warning has been lifted. It is now safe to leave your shelters.

The interruption seemed to bring Whitney back to reality.

“Shit,” she muttered. Whitney lifted herself off me, the loss of her heat sending a cold chill over my body.

“Whitney,” I called after her.

She looked like a deer caught in headlights. I didn’t want to spook her.

With a pained look on her face she said, “We should probably get going now. Check on Savannah.”

I rubbed my hand through my scruff. “I need some water and some food before we leave.”

As if realizing we had just spent the last couple of hours drinking, Whitney reluctantly nodded. “I’ll meet you upstairs.” She took off down the long room, the glow from the fake candlelight giving her an ethereal look as she walked away from me.

When I heard her open the shelter door, I grabbed my radio and tossed it onto the ground, furious that I’d left it on, leaving the door wide open for interruptions.

I took my time going upstairs. I knew Whitney needed her space. I could kick myself for scaring her off.

But I couldn’t believe what she’d told me.

She wanted me back in high school—had been on the verge of telling me her feelings on grad night.

Bad luck prevented that from happening.

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