Page 106 of The Right Kind of Wrong

Blake, seemingly having the same idea, toyed with the second button. “Do you like this? Watching me undress for you?”

Monroe gulped. Was water wet? Well, she could already feel how wet she was, and she wondered just what kind of state she’d be in by the time Blake actually touched her.

Monroe appreciated beautiful things. Blake, specifically. She loved watching the way that Blake moved. The little faces she made as she did. And she definitely, definitely liked this. “I love watching you.”

This was seemingly the right answer because Blake stepped closer, slotting herself in between Monroe’s open thighs. “Yeah? What do you like watching me do?”

“Anything. Everything. Watching you take in the world. Watching you wash your truck. Watching you watch me.” Monroe hadn’t intended to be so honest, but she couldn’t stop herself.

All her life, she’d kept her emotions close to her chest, but she couldn’t find the will to keep the wall up, not when Blake was standing on the other side of it, demanding to be let in.

That should have scared Monroe. As integrated as Sylvia had been into Monroe’s life, she had always felt safe.

Nothing about Blake felt safe. Not the way she made Monroe’s heart hammer so hard it threatened to beat out of her chest. Not the way they should have been all wrong for one another, but she somehow felt like the most right thing in Monroe’s life.

And definitely not the way that Monroe couldn’t control herself where Blake was concerned. She reached out and grabbed Blake’s waist, pulling her closer.

Blake moaned, her hips spreading open as wide as her position between Monroe’s legs would allow. Monroe took this as her signal to run her fingers up the inside of Blake’s thigh. She followed the hem of Blake’s shorts until she was just to the side of Blake’s pussy before she ran the same line back down.

“Take off my shorts,” Blake encouraged in a reedy tone, her hand gripping hard against Monroe’s neck.

Monroe could see the flush high on Blake’s cheeks. The way that her pupils were blown wide whenever she looked down to meet Monroe’s stare.

Blake wanted this, too. Maybe as much as Monroe did, which still felt impossible.

But she wasn’t going to miss this chance to feel as much of Blake as she possibly could.

Wasting no time, Monroe unbuttoned the jean shorts and watched them fall to the floor. Blake kicked them sideways, out of the way.

“Do you want to touch me?” she asked, her voice still determined but with the smallest hint of apprehension, like she was finally butting up against her own uncertainty.

Which Monroe just couldn’t abide.

“God, do I want to touch you.” Gently, she started up the same path she’d just taken with her hand, expecting to meet the fabric of Blake’s underwear. To tease her a little through the garment until they were both strung out with need. Then, and only then, would Monroe slip a finger inside.

But—her hand ghosted against nothing but skin and heat.

Monroe’s stomach bottomed out.

“You haven’t been wearing underwear all night?” Monroe asked, her own pussy aching with the newfound knowledge.

Because . . . fuck. How many hours had Blake been sitting next to her, standing across from her, walking by her, and Monroe hadn’t known?

It sent a thrill through her, even discovering it this late in the game. Really, it was probably for the best. Had she known, she’d have done something extremely stupid otherwise, like dragging Blake into the bedroom during the middle of the dinner.

With that casual athleticism Monroe never gave enough credit to, Blake climbed on top of her thighs effortlessly, just like she’d done on the sofa in the living room.

But this was so much better. Blake was only wearing the oversize linen shirt, and it had fallen off her shoulder, leaving her tanned skin exposed.

Monroe placed a featherlight kiss there.

And then Blake lowered herself down, from sitting on her knees to putting her weight on Monroe, and Monroe wasn’t sure if she was going to survive.

She could feel the heat coming from Blake, and she dug her fingers into Blake’s hips, staying still until Blake told her that it was okay to slide one of her hands over and fill her as fully as she could take it.

Monroe had fantasized about this. Touched herself to the idea, even.

But this was even more overwhelming than her fantasies.