“You’re safe with me,” he said. I felt his chest expand as he breathed in the night air. He didn’t push, didn’t demand. He just stood there and held me.
“I’ve always played it safe,” I murmured as I dropped my head back against his very solid shoulder. “Until tonight.”
He chuckled, and I felt the sound against my scalp. “Too bad,” he murmured. “You’re safe anyway.”
Those were exactly the words I needed to hear. Somehow, with them, my fears melted away. I hadn’t even realized they’d been niggling at the back of my mind until the tension faded. I stretched up my arms to touch his head, burrowing my fingers in his soft curls. And when his hands went from my belly to cup my breasts, I trembled in delight.
His hands were big, his fingers deft. And best of all, my bra was really thin. No padding needed for this full-figured gal. So when his thumbs rolled over my nipples, zings of electricity fired through my blood. I pressed my bottom backward, knowing I was inviting that hard, thick ridge of him to burrow deeper.
I regretted that I’d worn a tight dress. If I’d gone for something simpler, all sorts of interesting things could be happening right now. Instead, I was held tight by his hands on my breasts and the restriction of my skirt.
He didn’t seem to mind. God, what he could do with just his fingers. He lifted my breasts, kneading them, and when I was arching into his hands, he squeezed my nipples until I was gasping.
Then he let his right hand slip away. I hoped it would move lower on my body. This knit dress could slide up, right? But instead, he slid it to the back of my dress, even though there was no zipper. I couldn’t figure out what…
His hand pinched my back, and my bra abruptly loosened.
Well, that was lovely. I could breathe. And while I inhaled, his thumb rolled beneath the underwire and inch by inch, pushed it off my breast. Yummy. Except now I had a bra nearly up to my neck.
“It’s strapless,” I said. “Just pull it free.”
“My favorite words.” He tugged and with a little awkward maneuvering, I was now in a knit dress with no support at all. It felt like being naked, except that the texture of the fabric added to the sensation where he rubbed it into my skin. Slightly rough. Nearly uncomfortable. And it made me want to be completely naked with him. Skin to skin. Face-to-face.
But when I started to turn, he flattened his palm on my belly to hold me in place. “Just look at the stars,” he said.
Stars? He was the only star I was thinking about. But I obligingly lifted my gaze to the heavens while he continued to mold my breasts, tease my nipples, and make me so wet that I could barely stand. In fact, I probably couldn’t have, if he hadn’t been holding me up.
“Ready for what I promised?”
I was ready for whatever he wanted. I nodded without even speaking.
“I want to help you get used to rejection.”
It took me a moment to process what he’d said. And even then, I didn’t understand. “What?”
“Ask me to step away from you. To leave you alone.”
What? No! I straightened off of him and started to twist. “Do you want to—?”
“Listen to me.” He pressed his hand to my lips. “If you really want me to stop, just say, ‘Balk.’”
“Balk?”
He dropped his hands and backed away. “Exactly. Balk. That’s the word.”
Now that he was away from me, I felt cold and confused. I turned around to face him, my knees weak enough that I had to lean against the railing. “But—”
“Now ask me not to touch you.”
“But I want—”
“Ellie, ask me.”
“Don’t touch me.”
“That’s not a question. Try again.”
Grammar? He was making me think about grammar now? “Will you not touch me?”
