Page 62 of ClickBack

“Did you laugh?”

“A little.”

“You are six-nine. Your laughter shakes furniture.”

He presses his lips together, doing a poor job of helping. I lower the setting and sink farther into the pillows. My hand moves between my thighs, then pauses. It was easier to reach for him. I could kiss him, hold him, let his wanting answer mine without having to look at it this closely.

Jarrett waits, his eyes on mine.

“You can look,” I tell him, and part my knees.

He does. I feel the cool air first, then the vibration against my clit. My eyes close at the first touch. I ease the pressure and try again, shifting the angle until the feeling reaches deeper, low in my belly. My free hand slides over the sheet, searching for something to hold. I have barely started, and already I want more of it.

When I open my eyes, he is still against the dresser. His attention makes me aware of the way I’m moving, the way my thighs have fallen open. A sound leaves me, and I press my lips together. The toy shifts away.

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” he says.

I look at him, caught between embarrassment and the ache I have just interrupted. He doesn’t move closer or tell me what to do next. I bring the rose back because I want that feeling again. This time I let him hear me.

The pressure builds as I find the angle I want. Too much, and I ease off. Back again, slower. My hips lift from the bed, and I stop trying to keep them still. There is a moment when I could pull away, collect myself, make a joke. I stay with it instead, my fingers tightening in the sheet as the pleasure draws closer.

“Jarrett.”

“I’m right here.”

I hear the strain in his voice, but I no longer need to check his face. My eyes close, and the release comes in a long wave that lifts my back from the pillows and leaves my thighs shaking. I keep the toy where I want it until the sensation grows too sharp, then lift it away and let my hand rest against my leg. For a little while, I can only lie there and feel the last of it move through me.

Nobody calls from downstairs. I don’t reach for my clothes. When I finally look across the room, Jarrett is exactly where I asked him to be.

“I did not know it did all that.”

“Di deserves a thank-you card.”

“Di is taking this to her grave.”

His laugh is rough. I set the rose beside the lamp and look at him. Obeying me has required some effort.

“Come here.”

He starts across the room.

“Slow.”

He slows, and I enjoy that enough to sit up and reach for his shirt myself. He helps me take it off. I put my hand against his stomach, feel him react, and kiss him before giving him the permission he has been waiting for.

“Touch me.”

I guide one hand to my breast and the other between my thighs. He touches me carefully, and when I show him the pressure I want, he gives it to me again. I hold his wrist there, moving against his fingers until I need to stop and breathe.

He rests his forehead against mine.

“You’re enjoying this,” he says.

“Yes.”

I kiss him again. At this distance, his eyelashes are unreasonable. I tell him so, and he blinks on purpose, slowly enough to make me laugh.

“You really are beautiful.”