“Hi,” she says again, which lets me know she’s nervous. It’s kind of cute, how nervous she is. “Can you close your eyes?”
I frown in confusion, and my face must be so much more used to frowning than smiling because I feel my muscles relaxing instinctively. “Why?”
Helen’s floating head blushes pink. “I need to run back to the bed and I’m not wearing any pants.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Are you serious?” A few hours ago we were basically naked together, but now she can’t let me see her without pants on.
“Yes.”
“Nah,” I return, propping up my pillows so I can settle back against the headboard. “Think I’d rather enjoy the show.”
“Thaddeus!”
She’s never used my full name before. I think it’s probably meant to sound intimidating, but she’s about as intimidating as a baby chicken. I just grin at her, waggling my eyebrows. “Come on. Don’t be shy. If it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take off my pants, too.”
The sound she makes is kind of a weird half gasp, half strangled growl. The bathroom door shuts again. A moment later, it reopens and she edges into the room, eying me warily. She holds one of the white bathroom towels tightly around her waist, obscuring her bottom half.
If she’d just walked out wearing that in the first place, I don’t think I would have made any kind of fuss. But the theatrics of it all—that look she’s giving me and the way she’s gripping the towel and edging along the wall like she’s waiting for me to grab her and tear that towel off… Well, it makes me want to grab her and tear that towel off.
“Sister Helen,” I tease her, “you know you can’t play hide-and-seek with a bounty hunter. It triggers my feral instincts—like if you run from a dog, it has to chase you. If you hide from a bounty hunter, he has to come find you.”
I give her my best smolder—the one my fans used to make into wallpapers for their computer screens. I guess I still got it, since she blushes, and I see her nipples start to pebble underneath her shirt.
No, strike that.Myshirt. I was just playing around up until now, but the recognition of that makes my dick instinctively harden. My shirt onmywoman. I’m going to get that towel off her if it’s the last thing I do.
Helen must see the shift in my eyes because she puts even more distance between us, and a sofa. “Wait just a minute, Thad. Let me put on some pants and then we can talk…”
“We can talk after,” I promise her, already off the bed and calculating the swiftest route across the room to get to her.
She still looks a little wary, but I can tell she’s intrigued, too, by the way she bites her lower lip. “After what?”
“After I give you at least one more orgasm. Maybe two.”
I give her just long enough to process that before I jump into action, hurdling over the sofa, grabbing her, and dragging her back down onto the cushions with me. I’m quick, but I don’t think it’s my imagination that she didn’t try all that hard to get away from me. Her eyes are a vivid, electric blue as I hold her gaze, reaching down to tug the towel away.
“Thad,” she moans, but makes no move to push me away.
What I really want to do is use this towel to tie her wrists over her head and make good on my promise. But I’m guessing that’ll probably be too much, too fast, so I temper down the urge and kiss her, slowly, easing her into the moment as I feel her body shift and open up beneath me. I slide my thigh between her parted legs, pressing it against her core, and she gasps into my mouth.
My head is already spinning and we haven’t even really done anything yet. My mind is racing through all the different ways to make her feel good, to try something she’s never experienced before. It’s like when you show a movie you love to someone who’s never seen it, and you have to keep yourself from looking at them during all the best parts, just to see their reaction.
I already know in this scenario, I won’t be able to keep myself from looking at her during the best parts, just to see her reaction.
Last night I paid a lot of attention to her breasts, and I’m more than half tempted to do the same this morning. They’re spectacular breasts. I could spend all day touching them, holding them, rubbing them, sucking them. But she was going through such trouble to cover up her panties with that damn towel—maybe because last night we barely scratched the surface with just how good I can make her feel down there.
I think we better rectify that situation pretty quick.
Taking my time, I trail my hand down the length of her body, teasing up the soft skin of her thighs around her panty line, dipping a finger into the waistband, listening to her soft, urgent gasps, feeling the way she’s already pressing into me. “Is this off-limits? Is that why you were hiding it from me?”
“N-no,” she stammers, swallowing heavily. “I just didn’t know if…if that was a one-time thing or…I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”
That draws me up short, and I still my hand. Is that what I’m being right now? Presumptuous? “Did you want it to be a one-time thing?”
Her eyes, which were at half-mast just moments before, fly wide open, searching mine. “Do you?”
“I assumed it wouldn’t be,” I tell her, not really thinking through the words, just speaking honestly. “I mean, with someone else, maybe, but not you.”
I expect her to take that as a compliment, because that’s how it’s intended, but she frowns at me, her gaze intent. “What do you mean?”
