Eyes on me, she palms my thigh. Her hand slides up higher.
I'm painfully hard in an instant. It's a familiar feeling these days. Everything Mallory does drives me up the wall. I walked in my house last week and there she was sitting at the kitchen table, one knee pulled up to her chest, while the other leg stretched for the ground. She looked cute as hell, not to mention the spectacular view. Now every time she wears those leggings, that's what I think of. I'm above pilfering them from her laundry and having my wicked way with them, but only barely, and not for much longer.
Mallory's fingernails graze the front of my jeans. "Every time we kiss, I come out of my skin. At this point, I'm desperate for you."
"Remember our picnic in the olive grove?"
"How could I forget it?"
My touch skims Mallory's throat, feathers over her collarbone. "The smell of you was on my fingers, and as soon as I got home that day I used that hand on myself and came in an embarrassingly short amount of time."
"I love that." She makes pass after pass over the tightened fabric of my jeans.
On a groan, I ask, "Mallory, are you trying to get in my pants?"
Chapter 35
Mallory
Low laughter tripsfrom between my lips. It's my question, turned around on me.
His length presses against his jeans, and as much as I'm dying to get to him, I have some sense. It's the middle of the day, in a low-slung sports car. Kissing on the sidewalk for the entirety of Olive Township to see is one thing. My head bobbing in Hugo's lap where any passerby can spot us is another.
Looks like teasing him with my words is my only option. "I don't wantinyour pants. I want you out of them. I want to get on my knees and put you in my mouth. I want your face to disappear between my thighs. Then I want you to bend me over the kitchen table and make it so you'll never eat there again without remembering me."
Hugo gapes at me before his brow sets in determination. "I can have us home in twenty-five minutes."
Home.
NotIcan have us back to my house in twenty-five minutes.
But,home.
My physical attraction to this man is already nearing nuclear, but the way he gives himself to me without reservation might be one of the sexiest things about him.
Who knewtwenty-five minutes could feel like twenty-five years? The tension in Hugo's car is thick, syrupy.
We're on the long stretch of Summerhill Road, a few miles from the turnoff and the sign announcing the olive mill. I reach out, drift my fingers along the front of his pants. I've done this every so often during our drive, just to tease him. But this time, I'm switching it up a little.
A flick of my fingers undoes the top button of his jeans. I look at Hugo, find his gaze on mine. His eyes squint, only slightly, as he tries to figure out what I'm doing. What I'll do next.
Between pinched fingers, I pull on his zipper.
"Mal," he breathes.
My fingertips meet the soft fabric of his underwear. "Swordsman?" I ask, eyebrows raised, voice soft. When he doesn't say anything, I say, "Teasing is fun, but I need just a little bit more." My chin dips, and I ask, "Can I have more?"
He swallows, clears his throat. Adjusts himself on theseat. "The last thing in the world I will say right now is no."
My fingers dig into the opening at the front of his boxer briefs, wrapping around warm skin. Hard and thick in my hand, I pull him out. He's big, bigger than I've been with before. Wrapping my hand loosely around him, I glide upward.
He groans through tight lips. It's so sexy, so enjoyable, I find myself pressing my thighs together.
The pad of my thumb finds the bead of dew at the top, swirling it.
Hugo's right hand leaves the wheel, covers mine. He pumps slowly, once, twice, three times. The muscles in his jaw are snare drum tight.
"That has to be it," he says reluctantly, releasing his grip over me. "You have to stop. I have no intention of this being over anytime soon."
