Page 46 of A Little Crush (The Little Things #6)

RORY

“ S o…” A pebble skitters across the asphalt as we make our way back to Jaxon’s truck.

I shouldn’t replay the conversation. I really shouldn’t replay the conversation.

But I can’t help it. I love Aunt Ashlyn and Uncle Colt.

Seeing them always brightens my day, but apparently, lack of undergarments will put a damper on even the lightest of situations.

The real question is…how the hell am I supposed to ever face them again after a stunt like this?

“You good, Rore?” Jaxon asks beside me.

“Do you think they bought it?” I grimace. “The lie?”

“Which one?” Jaxon teases.

With a groan, I cover my eyes with my hand as if I wield the power to shut out the world in its entirety. “Don’t remind me.”

We both lied tonight. Both tried to cover our tracks, thanks to the agreement we made in my backyard before he went down on me.

Bloody hell, I still can’t believe he went down on me.

Or that he asked me on a date afterward.

It shouldn’t have surprised me, but it did.

The idea of him wanting to spend time with me and not only my body .

He’s right for wanting to take things slow, though.

To keep this quiet until we’re both sure what we feel is more than physical attraction.

And yes, I might love the guy both inside and out, but when my sexual experience can be counted on one hand with one person, I don’t want to rush into anything, either.

Not unless we’re both sure. I’ve been connecting with him emotionally for years.

But for Jaxon? I’m afraid this is new. So new, it’ll freak him out, and he’ll run in the opposite direction.

“I always knew you were a terrible liar,” Jaxon adds.

“I knoooow.” I drag out the word and tilt my head toward the darkening sky. “I cannot believe I honestly said we were there to interview a nanny. For a baby. At a miniature golf course.”

Jaxon chuckles dryly. “Yeah, I’m not gonna lie. Not your best work, Beautiful.”

Beautiful.

It isn’t the first time he’s used the term with me, but I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to it. Hearing Jaxon Thorne call me beautiful.

Heat builds in my cheeks as I replay the sexy way it rolls off his tongue before attempting to focus on the shit show we just experienced.

“I kind of feel bad,” I admit. “You know, how we lied and all. Not that I want to come out and tell everyone we’re having fun together, but…”

“I get it,” he returns. “I feel bad, too.”

“Yeah.” My face scrunches. “Add in that I’m a terrible liar, and I feel like this is a recipe for disaster.”

“Nah, you did good.”

“Now who’s the liar?”

With a smirk, he tosses back at me, “Now who’s the overthinker?”

My eyes thin, but I don’t bother responding, knowing he’s not wrong.

I am an overthinker. Always have been. Probably always will be.

Especially when it comes to all things Jaxon Thorne.

Am I crazy to think things were going well before his family showed up?

I felt like we were…connecting. It was almost like the good ol’ days, except for when I’d catch him staring at my legs or mouth.

Yeah, those parts are new. I like them, though.

When we reach his truck, he opens the passenger door for me like it’s second nature. “Here you go.”

Peeking up at him, I whisper, “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” He offers his hand, and I take it, using it as leverage before sliding into the passenger seat, and holy hell, could I get lost in those eyes.

Tucking my hair behind my ear while trying to keep my libido in check, I add, “And I feel bad about Eric.”

“Me, too. Your dad sent me a text earlier. Crowther’s gonna miss a few games but promised to keep the higher-ups in the loop.”

“That’s good.”

He nods. “Yeah.”

“You’re not going to be too hard on him, right?” I add. “What with the whole banquet thing.”

“Depends.” He looks around the parking lot, then leans in and kisses my cheek. “You gonna tell him you’re just friends?”

With a laugh, I roll my eyes and shove him playfully. “Depends. Are you gonna keep treating me like a yo-yo every time we kiss, Mr. Hot-and-Cold?”

“Ouch.” He backs away, but before the door closes fully, he tosses something between the gap.

It lands on my lap, feeling lighter than a feather.

My face flames even more when I realize what it is.

My. Freaking. Underwear. This is what I get for trying to be spontaneous and sexy.

Enough shame to last me a lifetime. As I tuck the flimsy material under my thigh, Jaxon climbs into the driver’s seat, giving me a smirk that makes me want to turn into a puddle.

“I’m not sure why you find this so hilarious,” I point out. “One small breeze, and your family would’ve seen a lot more than they should.”

“You mean, the breeze my mom pointed out?” Mirth dances in his eyes as he rests his forearm along the top of the steering wheel. “It’d almost be worth it just to see how you’d react.”

“You’re so funny.” I give him a mock glare. “You wanna know who else is funny, though? Eric. Maybe I should give him another call. See when he wants to go on the miniature golf date you mentioned to your parents.”

The curve of his mouth shoots straight toward the ground. “Now look who’s being funny.” Reaching over the center console, he squeezes my bare thigh.

I jolt in response. “Don’t you dare tickle me?—”

His laugh cuts me off as he squeezes me again. “I forgot how ticklish you can be.”

The sound of my hand smacking his rings through the air. “So help me, Jaxon?—”

“I’ll play nice,” he promises.

“Liar!”

“Don’t you trust me?” He stops squeezing but keeps his hand planted on my leg. It’s a dare. A game. A test.

My eyes narrow in suspicion, but I don’t pull away. Not yet. Not unless he betrays me.

“See?” Slowly, he glides his thumb up and down along my inner thigh. “Nice.”

And it’s crazy. How a simple touch manages to burrow deep and drive me insane, making me oh-so-aware of all things Jaxon. Including the invisible string seemingly tied around his thumb, connected straight to my libido. And here he is, tugging on it with an easy brush of his fingertips.

As I shift in the seat, my attention darts to the windshield. “We’re still in the parking lot,” I breathe out.

“And you’re still not wearing underwear.” His fingers dance along my outer thigh, bringing the light fabric of my dress with them.

Inch after not-so-innocent inch, I stare at his calloused hand on my leg as he moves it higher and higher. “Jaxon.” It’s a warning.

“Tell me to stop.”

Heat builds in my core as I consider the man himself instead of what he’s doing to me.

The subtle clench of his jaw. The slight part of his lips.

The dark sheen of his eyes trailing from my own gaze to my mouth.

He’s right. I could tell him to stop. I could remind him that his parents are less than a football field away and could catch us.

I could beg him to take me home where we have a semblance of privacy.

But the idea of ending it. Of letting whatever’s in this truck fizzle into nothing.

It feels like a waste. A waste of perfectly good, and achingly promising, curiosity. And damn, am I curious.

Pressing my lips together, I lean my head against the headrest, my gaze never wavering.

“Part your thighs,” he rasps.

I shift my hips forward and do as I’m told, spreading them ever so slightly.

His chest heaves in appreciation, and his fingers dig into my thigh before dancing along my skin, and disappearing beneath the hem of my dress.

I’m not stupid. I knew I wouldn’t wake up the morning after he went down on me, suddenly immune to the way he makes me feel.

But I figured I’d at least be a little more familiar with what to expect and how to react.

I was wrong. Very wrong. Instead, I feel just as on edge and curious as before.

It’s still so new. Still makes every touch feel like it’s the first time, even if it’s the second.

I think a not-so-small part of me knows I’ll feel the rush no matter how many times we play this game and explore each other.

How many times we touch or kiss or feel.

The realization is a scary thing, but I’m too turned on to analyze it.

With his knuckles, Jaxon brushes along my entrance.

A gasp escapes me.

“So fuckin’ sensitive.” He glances out the window, then shifts a little closer in his seat.

“Jax—”

“Love it when you say my name.” His lips bruise mine as he kisses me hard. But his fingers? His fingers maintain their gentle teasing until I’m restless and needy.

“Jax,” I repeat. It’s a plea. Not for him to stop, but for him to keep going. To touch me the way I know he can. And I know he hears it, too. The neediness in my voice.

His dark lashes flutter as he presses his forehead to mine. “You want my fingers, Beautiful?”

I nod. “Please.”

His hand cups my sex as I spread myself even more in the front seat, rotating my hips against him.

Then, he dips his finger between my folds.

Drawing a slow circle along my entrance, he pushes inside.

With another quiet gasp, I dig my fingers into his forearm, unsure if I want to push him away or pull him closer.

“That’s it, Beautiful.” He adds a second finger, stretching me a little more.

It burns, but only a little. Or maybe I’m so distracted by the gentle pressure against my clit that the slight pain doesn’t even matter as I shift against his hand.

I’m not sure, and honestly, I don’t care.

I just want…more. More of this. Me and him and his hands and his mouth.

Seriously, his mouth was the hottest thing ever.

The things he can do to me with that thing are? —

“You should see yourself right now,” he murmurs. “The way your cheeks are flushed. The way I can almost hear your moans, though you’re too stubborn to let them loose.”

“We’re in public,” I remind him, though it comes out as a whimper.