Page 49

My chin falls closer to her lips.
Her fingers fist around my lapel.
I drag a hand up her spine, cup her neck with my thumb at the corner of her mouth.
“Tamayo,” she says on an exhale.
And then a heavy knock cracks on the door.
“Time’s up,” Darius calls.
Zarina leans back at the same time she pushes against my chest. Her face, so open and expectant a second ago, closes offagain, a scowl scrunching her brows. I consider telling Darius and whoever’s waiting outside to go fuck themselves, but I can’t afford the insult. Not yet. Instead, I swipe my thumb across Zarina’s bottom lip before she can stop me. Red lipstick smudges across her chin.
She huffs, jerking back. “What the fuck?”
I transfer the red on my thumb to my own lips. “An excuse for our delay.”
“You’re unbelievable.” She pushes me further out of her orbit.
“Thanks.” I put more distance between us as she checks her reflection in the mirror, but doesn’t fix her makeup. Darius knocks again as I unbutton my shirt and re-button it wrong. “Coming!”
Zarina grumbles, and I could swear I hear something like,hopefully someone is.
ZARINA
The entire drive home, I sit with my legs crossed and my hands stuffed between them. If I release them, I know they’ll wander. If I uncross, I know I’ll slide over the leather seat and directly into Tamayo’s lap. And god-fucking-damn her for it.
We pull into the garage, and I don’t wait for Pat to help me out of the car, nor do I wish anyone a good night. I shoot out of the back seat, striding inside, up the stairs, and into my room without a word. I don’t trust my mouth to say anything other thanTamayoandplease.
I kick off my shoes as my back crashes against the door and slams it shut. My skin crawls, heat burning me from the inside out, sweat clinging to my dress below my chest, above my ass. My panties are uncomfortably wet, and sitting twelve inches away from the person who caused the mess for twenty stupid fucking minutes, with her scent stinking up the car, her words echoing in my ears and tingling down to my core without doing anything, didnothelp.
I yank my purse over my head. It lands on the floor with a clatter as my hands skim the satin of my dress, rucking it up mythighs and slipping under the hem. Goose bumps tingle up my stomach to my nipples, which tighten into pointed buds.
I could pull your pretty straps down—Tamayo’s voice whispers in my ear as if she’s here right now—watch your nipples harden.
A pathetic whimper escapes my throat, and I haven’t even touched myself yet. I clamp down, willing to bite through my tongue to keep her cursed name out of my mouth. My fingers trace the edge of my panties, my other hand holding my skirt out of the way.
Put your legs around my waist. Make your skirt ruck up just right.
My breath quickens, and the silk is rough against my skin despite feeling soft as a kitten all night. It pulls and scratches over my sensitive nipples. I can’t help it when my back arches into it. I can’t help it when I dip into my panties and find the fabric damp, my fingers wet.
I’d play with your nipples until you arched real pretty
I apply the slightest pressure to my clit, and my jaw drops open, a moan deep in my throat. I clap my free hand over my mouth. The door is cold on my back. My own words float back to me.The door isn’t locked. This is inappropriate.But I don’t stop. I circle my fingers and clench my jaw, palm muffling any noise I can’t hold back. Anyone could be walking past, hear my heavy breath and see the shadow of my feet. Pat could try the handle. Tamayo could pause to knock, hoping to catch me before bed.
Somewhere a little public. Someone on the other side of the door. A whimper, high and whiney, climbs up my throat. I do like it. The chance of discovery, but more the idea that my pleasure can’t be contained by physical barriers, too big and too loud for something as silly as walls. My hand eases away from my mouth until it falls to grab the door handle. Tension bubbles in my gut, gathering from my chest, from my knees, from everywhere silk fizzes over my skin and leaves prickles behind. My fingers quicken, and a fully formed moan drops out of my mouth unhindered.
Footsteps pause in the hall.
I don’t cover my mouth. It could be Pat or Darius—it could. But it’s not. Because Pat would yell at me for being lewd. And Darius would keep walking as quickly as possible. And that leaves one person outside my door. One person now walking, slow and clipped, until she’s so close, I can feel the heat of her body through the wood between us.
My fingers never stop.
The tightness in my core burns hotter. I can’t feel my feet, so cold they’re numb on the floor. My thighs are shaking from holding me up, from squeezing tight around the phantom waist they’re meant to hold. My chest heaves faster, and my other hand grips the handle so hard, it should break.
“Princess?” Tamayo’s voice calls. It seeps around the jamb and into my skin.
I quicken my pace.