Page 24 of Best Friend's Dirty Ex

Suddenly I feel like a dick for wanting to push and get her into my bed.

I can see the hesitation in her and the way she leans toward me as if she's looking for some physical touch. I open my arms to her, offering a hug, trying to remind myself internally to be gentle with her because I have no way of knowing what's going on in her mind, or what she's been through, or even why she's here. She told me point blank she doesn't want to feel vulnerable, which means she might not feel comfortable telling me if she's in a vulnerable place.

She steps into my arms, and I wrap her up in a hug. Pressing my cheek to her head, I talk softly into her ear. “I’m glad you’re here.”

“Just for the opportunity to flirt with me, right?” The humor in her tone has me grinning.

“Don't get me wrong, I love the opportunity to flirt with you. It's not my fault you're so damn sexy and mouthwatering I can barely keep my hands off of you.” My words lower to a near whisper, and I feel a shiver sneak through her body.

“No, but it's your fault you can't control yourself.” That playful edge of her voice threads through her comment, and I hold back a chuckle even as my desire ramps up a notch every second her soft body is pressed to mine. No doubt she can feel my arousal pressing into her belly.

“I'd say I'm doing a pretty good job of controlling myself, all things considered. If I wasn’t so intensely attracted to you, it would be even easier.”

She lifts her head and smiles at me. “And that I can feel... that,” she shifts her hips, clearly indicating my arousal, “I’d say we have different ideas of controlling ourselves.”

I pull away slightly, putting a bit of space between us. “I don't mean any disrespect, and I'm not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

She lets out a soft laugh and shakes her head. “That's the strange thing. You don't make me uncomfortable. I feel like you probably should. I'm certain there can't be anything between us and that you’re off-limits for me and I’m off-limits for you, but you do have a strange effect on me that I can't quite understand.”

There’s something so open and honest about her words. It's refreshing to talk to someone who doesn't play games or hide someone who's willing to be vulnerable with me, even after admitting to having been hurt. Again, I have to remind myself that this isn't about emotions or caring about her. This is about getting in her pants and winning a bet; my feelings for or about her are irrelevant.

“Don't stop talking.” Something in the breathless way she says the words has me even harder for her.

“You'd better be careful. Saying things like that makes me want to just wrap my hand up in your ponytail and pull. Then I might be inclined to start kissing down your neck to your throat, all the way down to this cute skirt you’re wearing,” I grab a fistful of the skirt in question and tug before letting it go, “and lifting it out of my way to bury my face between your legs.”

As I speak, her breathing increases and I feel her begin to tremble.

“I want to taste you.” As I say the words, I gently nuzzle her head, then press my lips to her temple. “I want to feel you tremble, feel your body tighten up, feel that flood of sweetness on my chin as you let go and orgasm for my tongue.”

She shudders slightly, a sigh leaving her lips. “I want you to do all those things.”

As she whispers the words, I feel my body tighten up, ready to give her exactly what she asks for, until she speaks up again.

“But we both know we can't do that. Your ex-wife is my friend. I currently work for you. And you're just not my type.” Even the gentleness and her tone doesn't take the sting out of her words. I've never considered myself not her type before, but I guess it makes sense.

“Keep telling me the reasons why we shouldn't and you're just going to make me want you even more. What's forbidden is extra delicious.” Of course, I'm not saying the words with any intent to pressure her, I'm more just continuing to speak because she asked me not to stop. But at my words she lifts her head and stares into my eyes.

“You are absolutely terrible and totally right. But I think it would be best if we stayed strong and stuck to our convictions.”

I'm not about to let her put this on me. “You mean that you want to stay strong and stick to your convictions?” I arch an eyebrow at her as her eyes widen. “Don't misunderstand; but I don't feel like I should be held back by my ex-wife’s relationships. You don't work for me in a capacity that would be affected by us sleeping together. I'm not about to fire you in the middle of a project or use any kind of power differential against you. If anything, I'm at your mercy if you decide to walk away. And I think that you're lying to yourself and me when you say that I'm not your type.”

With every sentence I say, I feel her re-evaluating her stances as her gaze darts back and forth between mine.

“Okay, maybe you need to stop talking.” There's a hint of a smile on her face as she says the words, and I know that I'm wearing her down with logic.

“But you don't want me to.” I lean in closer. “Because you know that if I keep talking, you are going to be the one that loses control. And you can't have that. You’re too strong of a woman to surrender, regardless of what you’ve experienced in the past.”

She reaches up and grabs my face in both hands, her gaze once more slashing back and forth between my eyes. She then rises up on tiptoe and presses her lips to mine.

I wind my arms tightly around her body, pulling her in close, crushing her to my hardness as I shift my hips slightly, hoping to ease the ache deep within my body. She moves with me, a gentle moan escaping between our lips as she holds me tight. Her arms snake around my shoulders and she clings to me.

It occurs to me that we're standing in my hallway kissing, and I lift her up, feeling her wind her legs around my hips, and walk toward the guest bedroom.

A few moments later, I lower her down onto the bed, her lips still dancing against mine as our tongues meet and swirl. There's nothing gentle about the kiss. It's a constant fight for dominance and control, filled with passion and desire, need and hunger, fire and fury.

It's as if every ounce of desire that we've been holding back is being released in this one single kiss. My body moves against hers, my hips grinding to the delicate spot between her legs as I push my weight into her on the bed. My lips leave hers to trail down her neck, my hands slipping up her shirt and over her bra, feeling the soft skin spilling over the top of the cups as I bare her belly to my view.

I kiss her soft skin, slip my hands under the bra, and palm her perfect tits. I want all of her, every inch, everything she’s willing to let me have, and as she arches up into my touch, I know she wants the same.

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