I bend my knees, hoping the makeshift comforter tent will hide what’s happening down there until I get myself under control. “Yep. All good.”
No chance he heard the restraint in my voice, making it quiver.
“We’ve got lots to talk about, but I’m gonna savor this view first.” He strides to me, braces himself with a hand on my pillow, and lowers for a kiss. “You look beautiful in my bed.”
Sweet. But delusional.
I didn’t even comb my hair when I got out of the shower. It’s still tied up in a towel turban.
His proximity and the brief brush of our lips trigger yet another arousal surge that forces my eyes closed. He doesn’t linger, which is either good or bad for my predicament.
I watch him cross the room, wondering if I can make myself come before he turns around.
If I had my blue vibrator, I bet I could. Instead, I’m using my fingers like a peasant.
The light from the bathroom isn’t shining as brightly near the closet, concealing his movements. But I get the sense he’s removing all his hot guy paraphernalia.
“I see you took my advice and made yourself at home.” His badge, handcuffs, and wallet plop onto the dresser. “Glad you found the cookies. I bought them on the off chance that one day you’d be here to eat them.”
Listen, that’s really sweet of him. So precious. Normally, I’d be swooning. I’d also be hiding in shame due to the munchie debris I left on the coffee table. But mostly the first thing.
Tonight, though? His affection is making me hornier, which didn’t seem possible until he appeared in the room, looking like a lawful Adonis. Without his grumpy side to offset his sexiness, my toes will be curling momentarily.
Barely able to stifle my whimpers, I grit out, “Sorry about the mess. I was gonna clean that up.”
He loosens the straps on the sides of his FBI vest, lifting it over his head. “It’s fine. I’m just relieved you’re safe and comfortable in my space. I like you being here.”
Since he’s still facing away from me, I blur my fingers over my clit as fast as I can.
He disappears into his closet, and I soon detect the sound of fabric rustling to the carpet.
Seizing the opportunity, I leap toward my climax, right then and there.
Unfortunately, he pops out of his closet before I crest the peak. I stop battering my clit so he doesn’t catch me masturbating in his bed. My eyes pinch shut as my orgasm hovers unfulfilled.
I’m going to crawl out of my skin.
When I force my heavy-lidded eyes open, Reed’s barely dressed body is inching toward me. Yet I can’t take the time to appreciate the view.
“Did you get new tattoos?” I ask, hoping to distract us both.
The attempt fails. Likely because of how breathy I sound.
His face conveys a mix of concern and curiosity. He sits on the bed and cups my cheek. “You don’t sound so good. Are you in pain? Upset? Sick? Talk to me.”
“I-um-I . . .”
Since I didn’t remove my hand from my clit, all it takes is one involuntary hip thrust, and I explode. The moan of pleasure I’ve been biting back launches out of me.
His eyes quadruple in size.
Instead of a little death, I wish for the real one. Kill me now.
I’ve just been busted bopping the bean like a pervert.
THIRTY-THREE
I'm into it
