“Yes,” I said, but my voice betrayed me.
She tilted her head, studying me, a sly little grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. “You seem… tense.”
“I’m not,” I tried again, shifting slightly. My hands stilled on the keys — I couldn’t type through this.
She pressed a little closer, just to adjust her position, and I felt the gentle press of her chest against my arm.God,she was like fire in my veins. I could feel her heartbeat matching mine, quick, playful, teasing.
“You like this, don’t you?” she whispered, just close enough for me to feel the words vibrating through the air between us.
I opened my mouth, closed it, and cleared my throat. “I… I have no idea what you mean.”
Her laugh was soft, warm, teasing — and suddenly my lap wasn’t the only thing melting.
She shifted again, this time with a purpose I couldn’t entirely ignore. The blanket pooled around her, and before I could register what was happening, she hadfully settledinto my lap.
Not in a clumsy way. Not in a “whoops” kind of way. Just… natural, like she owned the space. My chest tightened instantly, and my fingers froze on the typewriter keys. Every rational thought fled.
“You’re… heavy,” I tried, voice betraying me immediately.
She tilted her head, brushing a lock of her ridiculous pink hair from her face, eyes sparkling. “What an awful thing to say to a woman,” she breathed, voice low. “I’m sure it has nothing to do with the hard-on pressing into my ass, right?”
My stomach flipped. My pulse thundered. I gripped the typewriter like it could anchor me, but it was useless. The warmth of her, the curve of her body pressed against me, the soft weight of her arms resting lightly on mine — it was impossible to ignore.
She leaned backwards, just a little, brushing her lips near my ear in a mock whisper. “You can’t pretend you don’t like this.”
I wanted to protest, to shift her off, to insist on boundaries. But the truth — the undeniable, devastating truth — was that Idid. I wanted this. Every nerve screamed it.
She laughed softly, and the sound vibrated against me. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to summon the discipline to work, to type, to be normal.
But nothing could compete with the heat, the pressure, the delicious impossibility of her.
And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t care.
She shifted again, settling just a fraction closer, so the curve of her backside pressed more firmly against my hardening cock. My hands twitched on the typewriter, fingers hovering like they’d betray me if I moved too fast.
“You know,” she murmured, voice soft but loaded, “I could sit here all day and watch you struggle like this.”
I swallowed hard.Struggleindeed. Every nerve in me screameddon’t, even as another part — the part I had no right to admit existed — wanted nothing more than to lean into her warmth, let the tension crack into something dangerous.
Her hand brushed my forearm again, lingering this time, teasing, deliberate. I could feel her pulse, soft and fast, echoing in my own.
“You’re ridiculously easy to fluster,” she said, teasing, leaning her shoulder just a little closer. “Do you get this worked up around all women?”
“No,” I rasped, throat tight. “Just… you.”
Her laugh was teasing, vibrating against my chest. She tilted her head, watching me, eyes sparkling with mischief. “Mm-hmm. I can see that.”
The air between us was a current I couldn’t escape. I wanted to move, to shift, to reclaim my dignity, but every instinct in me screamed to stay, to feel, tonot think.
Her fingers brushed mine again, just grazing, and I jerked slightly — not away, not fully, but enough that she grinned.
“You’re losing,” she whispered.
I wanted to deny it. I wanted to snap back. But the truth — the delicious, maddening truth — was that Ihadalready lost.
CHAPTER 17
Silas
