My breath stalls in my lungs.
Then at the last second, he retreats.
“Tease,” I groan.
His brow lifts. “Me?”
“You know you are.”
“How so?”
“Because you were so close.”
“Close to what?” His wicked smile nearly undoes me.
God, I love this version of him.
Playful. Confident.
I wonder if this is who he was before everything shattered.
But I push the thought away. This isn’t about his past. Or mine.
It’s about right now.
This moment.
“Tell me,” he murmurs as he removes my other boot with the same maddening slowness, his mouth traveling upward again. My body feels hypersensitive, every brush of his lips magnified.
“Tell you what?” My voice is unsteady.
“What I was close to.” His fingers slide higher, pushing my thighs apart. “Tell me where you want me to touch you.”
I swallow hard as heat floods my face.
I’ve never been good at this part. Never been encouraged to give voice to my wants and desires.
But this is what my year of yes is all about. Doing things the old Rowan never would have. Saying yes to new experiences, even if they scare me.
Granted, when I decided to embark on a year of yes, I didn’t exactly foresee it requiring me to tell my boss in explicit detail what parts of my body I want to feel his mouth on. But I’ve learned the universe works in mysterious ways.
“Your mouth,” I say in a shaky voice. “On me.”
“My mouthison you,” he teases.
“I’m not talking about my leg.”
“Then tell me where.”
“My pussy,” I whisper. “I really need your mouth on my pussy.”
“And I’m dying to taste you, Rowan.” His expression darkens with hunger. “Now lie back.”
I do as he commands, my back sinking into my mattress.
Several seconds pass as I wait to feel him, the anticipation unraveling me. Finally, he brushes several kisses up the inside of my thigh, inching closer and closer to my center.
But instead of feeling his mouth on me, he moves to my other thigh, teasing and torturing me with more kisses.
