He jerks his head to look over his shoulder, like he thinks I’m saying she’shere.
“—doesn’t want me to date,” I finish.
“I don’t want to hurt her, Maisey. I swear to God, I don’t. I get it.I get it.But I have never—ever—in my life put my own needs and wants in front of a teenager. And this would be so much easier if I thought I was bad for either of you. But I don’t.I don’t want to hurt you.And it’s fucking killing me to know I want to do something good and she doesn’t trust me. And it’s killing me that I want to do something good foryouand she doesn’t trust me.”
God.
He knows exactly what to say.
He understands.
And knowing how much he worries about her makes me like him even more.
“I don’t know what herneedsare and what herwantsare, and I don’t know if it matters,” I whisper. “I just know Iwantyou, and I feel like I shouldn’t, even though it’s also the most natural thing in the world to like someone whogets it.”
His head swivels back until he’s looking at me. And then his lips curve up in a naughty, dirty, promising smile. “So maybe we just fuck for a while.”
That should not make my vagina sit up and cheer. Or my brain short-circuit with lust. Or my panties go so wet that I can smell my own arousal.
“You know there’s no such thing as working someone out of your system,” I whisper.
He angles closer, our bodies separated by the width of a feather, andyes yes yes, I want him closer, butno no no, I’ve made a thousand excuses to my daughter about why I won’t do this no matter how much I want to.
My brain is so scrambled anytime I’m near him. And as much as my heart and brain whisperJunie first, sometimes they also ask,Who do you become when you never put yourself first?
I did that with Dean.
He was first, and what did I become?
But I’m responsible for Junie. She’s mydaughter.
Where do her wants end and my needs begin? Or are they her needs and my wants?
I don’t know.
“I can’t in good conscience say that we should test that theory, but God, do I want to,” he says.
Yes yes yes,my clit is chanting. My nipples are hard and aching, and I can’t remember the last time a man looking at me made me this hot and wet.
Yet here we are, and it’s taking every ounce of self-control I possess and more to not jump him. “And I can’t in good conscience say that you would have to be terrible in bed for us to prove that theory wrong, and I have to warn you, novelty turns me on. So you’d have to beextrabad.”
“I could be fast. Right now, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t last three seconds in your hot, wet pussy.”
The idea that he’d be done before we even started should be a turnoff.
Instead, the idea of my own raw sexual power making him lose control and talk dirty to me is making my breath come in smallgasps, and I very, very much want to slip my hand into my pants and finger-fuck myself.
“That would be very disappointing,” I manage to choke out.
“I’m very clumsy with my fingers too.”
One, he’s lying. Two,yes. Yes, I’d very much like to feel his hands and his fingers on my body. Stroking my breasts. Pinching my nipples. Teasing my clit. Thrusting in my vagina.
Making me come.
Over. And over. And over again.
“If we do this—” I start.
