Page 25

Shit. Please don’t turn around.
I clear my throat to let her know I’m coming but the sound doesn’t do much to hurry her along. It never does. As far as Cari’s concerned, I’m about as anatomically correct as a Ken doll. “Here,” I say, touching the frosty glass against her bare shoulder just as she hooks her arms into those uselessly thin straps. For a split second, I see myself slipping my finger beneath one of them, snapping it with the slightest crook.
“Thanks,” she says, aiming a wide grin at me over her shoulder before taking the beer.
“You’re welcome,” I mutter, turning to leave. I have to get the hell out of here. Away from her.
“Zip me up?”
Fifteen
Patrick
Zip me up?
“Sure thing,” I say, tilting my half-empty bottle in her direction and she takes it, setting both of them on her dresser.
Her hair’s come undone from where she’s put it up. It falls against her bare shoulders in soft, loose waves that smell like her—gardenias and vanilla, mixed with something darker. Deeper.
I’m losing my fucking mind.
I scoop it out of the way, the silk of it shifting through my fingers as I brush it over her shoulder, exposing her nape. My hands are shaking and my dick is doing push-ups inside my pants but I manage to grip the delicate tongue of the zipper, pinching the tail of it to anchor the dress in place while I drag it up, slow so I don’t snag the lace. She turns her head just a bit, giving me a glimpse of her perfectly angled jaw, the curve of her mouth. She seems to be waiting for me to say something, but what?
I’m gonna jerk off to this moment as soon as you leave.
I’ve been dying to fuck you ever since the night you kissed me in my car.
I’ve got an idea… cancel your date. We can order pizza and you can sit on my face.
I don’t say any of those things. “There you go...” I say instead, feeling ten different kinds of lame. Mr. Nice Guy strikes again.
“Thanks...” She takes a step backward. It’s a small step... not even a step, really. More of a sway. She swayed backwards, grazing her tight, lace-clad ass across my erection. I know she can feel it, rock hard and hot between her ass cheeks. Hear the hissing intake of the breath I’m too stunned to swallow. I should step back. It was an accident. She didn’t mean to—
And then she bends over.
Her ass is not grazing anymore. It’s grinding against me. Massaging my cock in a lazy, circular motion that has me seeing stars. The friction between us is so sweet and hot the tip of my cock starts tingling. My balls tighten in anticipation. It’s all I can think about. The feel of her ass pressed against my throbbing cock. That strip of cherry-red lace running right up the center of her. It’s almost enough to have me coming right here, right now.
Before I know what I’m doing, I drop my hands to her hips, gathering black lace in my fists, ready to jerk it up, to drop to my knees and bury my face in her pussy to lap at all that smooth, dark honey I can smell between her thighs...
Someone’s knocking. Probably been knocking for a while. The thud of knuckles on wood sounds impatient. Like it didn’t like being kept waiting.
My cock and I can totally relate.
Cari straightens her spine, flipping her hair over her shoulder. It falls, sliding across my face, a silken snare that cascades across my cheeks, shifting slowly, her face disappearing beneath the fall.
I’m still holding her hips, her ass snug against my hard as a rock dick. The hem of her skirt riding high against her thighs, the short length of it gripped tight in my fists.I have to let go. Problem is, I’m not sure I can let go.
The knocking again, fast and agitated, makes up my mind for me. I jerk my hands away and take a step back—that’s when I realize why she bent over in the first place. She was pulling on her shoes. While I’ve been busy dry humping her, she’d been putting on her cherry red heels.
They matched her panties perfectly.
“Patrick...” she breathes my name, her sky-blue eyes wide. Trembling lips parted, gaze cloudy. Confused.
Fuck. Shit.
“Sorry.” I go palms up, feeling like the biggest asshole alive. “That was totally uncalled for,” I say, taking another step back and then another and another until I’m in the living room, heading for the door. I swing it open just as Tim/Travis, starts another flurry of impatient pounding.
I don’t say anything, just fling the door open and let it hang while I bee-line my way to the kitchen. I snag a beer out of fridge and twist the cap of before setting it aside.