Page 107 of One and Only

“You’d touch me.” I gently pulled down the other strap of my dress until both sides hung over my shoulders.

“There,” he said, voice full of agony and tight with desperation.

I nodded. Despite the tight fit of the dress, the material had just enough stretch, and when I pulled, he let out a short, pained sound, something ripped from his chest.

“All night,” he said. “You’ve been walking around with nothing under there all night?”

Again, I nodded.

Beckett stared, his eyes greedy as he memorized the sight of my breasts. I traced them delicately, small circles with the tip of my finger, and he hissed out a slow breath.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, voice low and rough. He pinched his eyes shut and tipped his head back. “Fuck, this is not helping.”

“Do you want me to stop?” I asked, head tilted.

His gaze locked on mine. “Not a chance.”

I smiled.

He didn’t. “Lift your dress,” he said.

Oh yes. The bossy tone did things to me. Beckett could see it in my eyes too, and he leaned forward.

“Anything under that skirt, Greer?” he asked.

Slowly, I shook my head.

He dropped his chin and muttered a string of curse words. A hot burst of delight sprang from my chest, bleeding warmth I could feel all the way down to my toes.

As I inched the dress up, I paused when it was around my upper thighs. “Here?” I asked.

His eyes narrowed in on the hollow between my legs, where he couldn’t quite see. The place I wanted him, and by the looks of it, where he wanted to be too.

“There.” The word was sharp and harsh, and it caused the first flutter of pleasure in the base of my spine. “You lift that dress another inch, and I’ll stop playing this little game, Greer.”

He meant it too. My fingers curled in the hem, and I wondered what he’d do first if I ignored him, if I rucked it up around my waist and damned the consequences.

“It won’t feel the same,” he said.

“It would be better if it was you,” I agreed easily, sliding my hand between my thighs.

His leg was bouncing ceaselessly, and I tossed my head back against the door when I imagined that it was him.

My hips rocked, seeking the kind of friction I just couldn’t get without him.

Without his big hands, without his longer fingers, and without the press of his big hard body against mine.

“Tell me,” he commanded. His eyes were so dark. His face so stern and severe.

So I did.

My voice came out breathy, choppy on the words, while I tried to tell him how it felt.

When I said things likewetandhotandtight, his whole body locked with tension. When I rolled my hips and bit down on my bottom lip, a swirling ball of heat crawling up my back, his nostrils flared dangerously.

When I moaned my way through the beginning spark, he watched my face like I was something precious and rare.

“Show me,” he said. “Show me now, Greer.”

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