Page 66 of Dirty Fighter

I stop breathing as he skims over my drenched panties, stroking me through the cotton before retreating just far enough to tuck beneath the fabric and dip in again.

“And this, baby?” His lips brush the shell of my ear in time with one thick finger slipping between the swollen folds of my sex.

“More,” I beg, rocking into the hard length of his dick as he teases me with a barely there touch. “Need more, please.”

“Fuck,” he breathes out, sounding tortured in the same way I am. And then he’s giving me what I asked for, painting slippery circles around my clit… once, twice, three times… each revolution bringing me close, closer, almost there… before sliding back and⁠—

I gasp, clenching hard as his thick finger pushes inside.

“Tell me,” he growls against my ear, teeth grazing the edge and then catching it in a light clasp, hips rocking against my ass as he slides in and out in steady pumps.

“So good. Jason, you feel—” My hands meet the countertop as he adds a second finger. “Good.”

“So wet, beautiful. So slick and tight and perfect.” He strokes and stretches me, groaning like he’s the one on the brink of release. “You going to take another for me?”

I’m already so full, he can’t possibly mean…

But yes, he does. And oh my God, he’s working a third in as I spasm and pulse around his penetrating knuckles, gasping something unintelligible that he rightly takes to mean, Yes… More… Everything.

He swears and groans at my ear, telling me how good I am at taking his hand. How bad he wants to fuck me, but that he needs to feel me come like this first. All the while, filling me up with his rugged, gentle, possessive touch.

“You want me to make you come, Rowan?”

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes. “Please.”

Thrusting deep, his fingers curve to meet that singular spot inside me… just as he brings the heel of his hand against the spread of my sex and⁠—

I’m there. Crying out as I tip over the edge, tumbling in the freefall of a release that takes me apart and then pulls me back together again and again. Or maybe it’s Jason doing that, because he’s the man holding me against him, tenderly whispering how beautiful I am.

And then he’s turning me around and kissing me hard before tossing me over his shoulder with a growl so hot and possessive, I’m half ready to come again just from the sound. I look up with a laugh as he spins around. And that’s when I see the notebook he was writing in when I found him. And the single word that takes up three precious lines…

ESCAPE

Jason

“Okay, what are you talking about with me being wrong?” Rowan laughs a few hours later, legs outstretched as I add a log to the fire before joining her on the comforter from our bed we laid out on the floor.

“What you were saying about the touchy stuff. How we had more physical contact making breakfast than in all the months we lived in the same house back in high school.”

She gives me a saucy look from beneath her lashes. “Obviously, the qualifier about during the making of breakfast is key.”

I huff a laugh, mentally revisiting the dirty fantasies come to life following our plates hitting the counter. “Obviously.”

She sits straighter, her expression sobering. “You’re talking about when Mom and Ed went to the city.”

Maybe I shouldn’t have brought it up. It’s one of those memories I’ve been doing battle with for about as long as it’s existed.

Even now I can remember that moment when I was sitting in my room. “I was studying.”

She blinks, and I don’t know. It’s like some kind of tidal wave of emotion rolls over her.

She wets her lips and… Eye contact. “Your giant feet were up on your desk while you were reviewing notes for some test.”

“History.” And yeah, I was trying to.

What I was actually doing was thinking about the girl in the bedroom down the hall. And how I had to stop thinking about her so much.

That whatever connection I’d thought was between us just hadn’t been, and that I needed to stop looking for something that wasn’t there.