“Not a masochist. Just a man who replays every second of your hands on me for hours after I leave.”
Her fingers stilled against my ribs. When she looked up, there was something new in her eyes. A flicker of heat she usually kept banked.
“Every minute. Every detail.” I held her gaze. “The way your fingers feel. The way you smell. The little furrow between your brows when you’re concentrating.”
She smirked. Tried to play it off. “Sounds obsessive.”
“Harper.” I waited until she met my eyes again. “I think about your hands on me when I’m alone in my cell at night. When I’m fisting myself and wishing it were you.”
Her eyes flew wide as she processed what I’d just said.
I’d tried this before, pushing the boundaries of our conversations into dangerous territory. Every other time, she’d shut it down, saying it was too risky to talk like this when someone could walk in at any second and overhear, but this time, I watched the calculation happen behind those green eyes. Watched her weigh her options. And then, instead of pulling back, she leaned in.
“So do I,” she said quietly.
Holy shit.
It shocked me. I’d have assumed that with me being so close to my parole hearing, Harper would be extra cautious. I had no clue why she was being this bold, but was I going to stop it?
Hell no.
“When I get home each night,” she continued, her voice dropping lower, “I replay every moment of these exams. Every touch. Every look you give me.” Her cheeks flushed pink, but she didn’t look away. “And then I do something about it.”
Jesus.
I couldn’t resist. Her hip was close enough to my cuffed wrist that I was able to reach out and brush my thumb against it. Just barely. Just enough.
Her lips parted, and a soft gasp escaped her.
This was another thing she’d given me. Another reason to get the hell out of this place and start living like a normal man.
When I spoke, I kept my voice low. Quiet. So only the two of us could hear it in this sterile exam room that suddenly felt very, very small.
“I can’t wait for the day I’m not handcuffed. So I can touch you anytime I want.” My thumb traced a slow circle against her hip. Even through the thin fabric of her scrubs, I could feel the warmth of her skin. “Anywhere I want.”
She swallowed. Her gaze tracked the movement of my thumb. “I can’t wait for that either.”
When she caught her bottom lip between her teeth, something primal stirred in my chest.
“You have no idea how much I fantasize about us,” I said.
Another swallow. “Oh?”
It thrilled me that she was challenging me to continue. That she was leaning into this instead of pulling away.
“Harper”—I tugged her hip closer, just slightly, until she was leaning over me, one palm flat on my chest—“I can’t wait to worship every inch of your body.”
“And how would you do that?” If anyone walked in here right now and saw us like this, there would be no explaining this away. The smart thing would be to stop.
But when it came to Harper, I was anything but smart.
I existed in a place where it was just me and her and the rest of the world had fallen away.
“First,” I said, my voice dropping lower, “I’d kiss a line down your throat. Slow. So slow, you’d be begging me to move faster.”
She took her bottom lip between her teeth again.
“Then I’d go lower. And lower.” I watched her breath catch. “Until I reached your breasts. I’d take my time there, Harper. I’d pull your nipple into my mouth and suck until you were squirming underneath me.”
