“Fine. Thinking about actually folding it out this time.”
“Plenty of room in here.”
The silence crackled between them.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I’ll behave. I promise.” She kept her tone light, teasing. His response was instantaneous.
“But I wouldn’t.” His voice cracked slightly, the barely restrained force behind it sending a thrill through her lower belly.
“So what?” She began to slink toward him, her bad ankle hardly twinging when she put her weight on it. Every part of her brain, including the pain receptors, apparently, was united by a common goal: Operation Ethan.
“What are you doing, Grey?” His voice was hoarse now, barely above a whisper.
She stopped short of touching him, her bare shins millimeters from grazing his jeans. She looked down at him, taking in the tension vibrating through his body, the way his face was rigid and pained, eyes glued to her face, as if he didn’t trust what would happen if his gaze strayed any lower. Slowly, she joined him on the couch, placing one knee, then the other, on either side of his hips, straddling him.
She paused, body suspended over his, waiting to see if he would stop her. He didn’t move, didn’t speak, his eyes still boring into hers. She slowly lowered herself onto his lap, his eyes closing and breath escaping in a hiss once she was flush against him. The friction of denim against her skin was almost as exquisite as the pressure of the hard length of him between her thighs.
She nuzzled her face into his neck. “I’m not done celebrating.”
His breath was ragged, shallow. “This is a bad idea.”
She sat back up so they were face-to-face.
“Why? Don’t you want me?” She skimmed her fingers over her breasts, her torso, her nipples already straining for attention through the thin fabric.
His eyes followed the path of her fingers, transfixed.
“You have no idea how much I want you,” he breathed.
She shivered, both at the words and at the heat behind them, his voice low and raspy with need. His forearms flexed, like he was fighting as hard as he could not to touch her.
“I want you, too. It’s all I can think about.” She bent her head down again, pressing her open mouth behind his ear as she rocked her hips, grinding against the thick, solid ridge of his erection. The sensation sent sparks across her vision, and she whimpered involuntarily.
“Fuck,” he groaned loudly. It was as if she could hear his self-control snap. One hand grabbed a rough handful of her ass as his other arm wrapped tightly around her upper back, hauling her against him.
He kissed her with an intensity that should have scared her, everything he had been holding back pouring into her all at once through his lips, his tongue, his hungry hands roaming her body. She sank into him with a long sigh, her skin buzzing everywhere he touched her.
Then, suddenly, it was over. Before she knew it, he had halfpushed, half lifted her off of him, and was somehow standing on the other side of the room.
“We can’t do this,” he said through gritted teeth.
Grey was incensed. “Why not?” she asked in a tone that would have been dangerously close to whining, if not for the thread of anger pulsing through it. “We both want to. We’re not allowed to do it with anyone else. Everyone thinks we’re already doing it anyway. It’s just sex, it’s not a big deal.”
“Itwouldbe forus!” he exploded. She was stunned into silence. He rubbed his hands against his face, looking as agitated as she felt. A few long seconds passed, the only sounds their heavy breathing over the murmur of the television. When he spoke again, his voice was calmer, bordering on weary.
“We can talk about this tomorrow. When we’re both sober.”
Her temper flared. “Oh, so you mean between 8 and 8:02a.m.? I’ll pencil it right in. Unless you’d rather just pretend this never happened. Your specialty,” she snarled. He looked like she’d knocked the wind out of him.
She knew it was a low blow, but she didn’t care. She was horny, angry, and intoxicated, a combination that had her feeling like one giant exposed nerve. With as much dignity (and as little limping) as possible, she sauntered back into the bedroom, feeling his eyes on her ass as she walked away from him.
Once she was under the covers, the aching pulse between her legs began to throb, alerting her that there was no way she was falling asleep until she dealt with it. She slipped her fingers beneath the waistband of her underwear, her breathing growing deep and heavy as she found the spot that was already slick and wet with anticipation. She let her mind drift back to Ethan: his strong arms around her, his covetous eyes on her body, his unchecked passion when he let himself lose control. An involuntary moan slipped out.
She paused. She’d left the door cracked open, notnoton purpose. He’d turned the television off as she’d left the room, leaving him sitting in silence. There was no way he hadn’t heard her. She willed him to appear in the doorway, ready to help her finish the job.
No such luck.
