Page 51 of Weddings, Revenge & Fake Dating

She places a hand over mine. “You said you wouldn’t touch me.”

“I promise, my skin will not touch yours until you ask me to. Do you trust me?”

She nods, and her hand falls to her side in acceptance.

I slowly tug the fabric over her head until her hair fans over her bare shoulders. Beneath the nightgown, her breasts are as free and sumptuous as the first time I laid eyes on them, and her lace bottoms are so thin, they may as well be invisible. Her pussy is bare.

She’s done a lot more than the fanny facial at the spa. I love that she’s been pampering herself.

“You’re stunning.” I take in the view of her decadent body, and my mouth waters at the sight of her dusty-rose-colored nipples.

She reclines onto a pillow. A fingertip settles between the seam of her lips like a tease. Between here and there are miles and miles of swells to explore and so many soft places to stop and worship.

“I’m ready for my no-touching test run,” she says with lust in her eyes.

22/

jeanie

Test Run Milkshakes

“Maybe I’m taking you for a test run,” I say.

As soon as the words leave my mouth, I realize what I’ve done. I’ve made a decision that will change everything.

My shock and Nathan’s collide in silence. Then, in one fell swoop, the world shifts, and I’m in his embrace. I’m breathless with need the moment we touch.

One challenge is met with another, and the next thing I know, Nathan settles beside me in bed, determined to make me come without ever laying a finger on me. Warmth radiates from his bare chest. I rest my hands at my sides and inhale deeply to calm my racing heart.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispers.

One thing rings loud and true in this quiet moment: I want Nathan to make me feel good.

My eyelids sink shut as I look for the courage to do something for myself. I can give myself this one moment. That’s all this will be. I release a steady breath and nod my consent despite my nerves.

The first sensation hits my collarbone immediately. His heated breath caresses my skin. I inhale sharply when he does it again, not ready for the fluttering thrill that washes across my limbs.

The bed shifts as he adjusts. When I open my eyes, he’s planked over me in a horizontal wall of muscle, deftly defying gravity. No part of him touches me, unless you count the tension dancing between us.

“Watch everything I do,” he says.

“Okay,” I whisper.

Nathan produces a small pink feather. He must have plucked it from the bachelorette party boa that hangs nearby on the bedside lampshade.

He drops the feather, and it lands in the hollow of my neck. In a normal situation, it would barely register as a tickle. But here? It’s the full weight of my need to be touched by him.

I swallow.

Lowering himself, he blows the feather, and it tumbles across my collarbone like a series of fluttery kisses. I inhale sharply and flex my hands. When it drifts over a sensitive spot at the crook of my neck, goose bumps rise and follow its path.

He blows the feather a new direction, and I hold my breath when it stops between the valley of my breasts.

Our gazes lock, and his eyes darken with want. Without breaking our connection, he lowers his mouth to swirl his tongue above my nipples, but never actually touches me.

Watching him act out what he wants to do to my body sends me into fits. And, oh God, I never wanted to be touched by a man so badly in my life. I want my nipples wet and in his hot mouth, his soft tongue stroking my skin while his teeth scrape the straining peaks. When he moans like he wants the same, I writhe, needy and desperate.

“God, yes.” I raise my breasts closer to his lips when he does it again but never make contact. He’s so close. So close.