Simon groaned.
If she continued on that path, doing the things she was doing, he’d be in serious pain from the unforgiving stiffness of denim.
“Sweetheart, I’d let you touch every inch of my body—as much or as little as you like.”
Her fingers drifted lower to cup his junk, squeezing gently.
Again, he covered her hand with his, halting her attack on his senses. “Don’t go there if you don’t want to go all the way. Once we start, I can’t guarantee I'll be able to stop. You’re doing crazy things to my control.”
“Then let go of that control,” she whispered against his neck. “Touch me. Hold me. Make love to me.”
“You’re my client,” he said as a last-ditch effort to stop what was building between them. “Isn’t there something in the playbook...a rule that states you don’t make love with the client?”
“Fuck the rule book.” Holly leaned up on her elbow and stared down into his face, her eyes dark pools in the gloom. “If you don’t want to make love to me, just say it. I’ll go sleep on the couch.”
When he didn’t answer right away, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and pushed to her feet.
Simon snagged her arm and yanked her back. She landed on the bed beside him and immediately tried to rise again.
He held onto her arm, anchoring her to the bed and to him.
“Let go,” she said. “You obviously have no desire to make love with me. Forget it.”
“Stay,” he said. “I want to make love to you.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need your pity fuck. I can pleasure myself. I know my own body and my sweet spots better than any man.”
Again, she tried to get up. He tugged her back down.
Her sass and anger only made Simon more determined to keep her there. His brain told him to let her go before he lost himself in her.
He asked himself if that would be a bad thing and decided he didn’t care.
“I’m intrigued by your body and sweet spots.” He sat up behind her, brushed her hair off her neck and pressed his lips to the spot right under her earlobe.
Holly sucked in a sharp breath and let it out on a soft moan.
“If I promise this isn’t a pity fuck, will you show me what pleases you most? I’m a quick study.”
“I’m sure you are,” she said, her voice breathy as if she couldn’t quite get enough air.
He touched his hand to her shoulder and slid it down her arm to her waist, then back up, brushing his palm ever so slightly against the swell of her breast.
“Interested?” he whispered against her ear.
“Mildly,” she said, her tone dry.
He cupped her breast in his hand and squeezed gently. “This could be so much better... skin to skin.” With his other hand, he tilted her head toward him and pressed his lips to her temple. All the while, he pinched her nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Even through the fabrics of her shirt and bra, he could feel the tip form a hard little button.
His pulse thickened and quickened, pushing heat and adrenaline throughout his body to pool in his groin.
Holly leaned her head back against his shoulder, her chest rising and falling with each labored breath. She raised her hand and took the one he had on her breast.
For a moment, he froze, expecting her to stop him. Instead, she guided him lower to the hem of her shirt and under it.
The warmth of her skin against his palm sent fire through his system. He went back to the breast he’d fondled, cupped it and squeezed gently.
It wasn’t enough for him.
