Page 98 of His Ruthless Match

“You’re really going to drag me into this?”

“Yes. Consider it part of your cultural education,” I said, glancing around for an empty spot. Of course, there wasn’t one. “Ugh, great. There’s nowhere to sit.”

“What about that?” He pointed to a small log shoved to the very back corner of the lawn. It looked uncomfortable and precarious, but it was better than standing. He dropped onto it with a satisfied sigh, folding his arms across his chest. “Problem solved.”

“Where am I supposed to sit?” I asked, crossing my arms.

He patted his lap without hesitation. “Right here.”

“You’re unbelievable,” I muttered, though I stayed standing for a good thirty seconds longer than I wanted to, just to prove a point.

“Suit yourself,” he said with a shrug. “You can stand. I’m not moving.”

Making sure he heard me sigh, I relented and sat down gingerly on his lap, trying not to lean back too much. It wasn’t awful. His arms came up instinctively to steady me, and he was annoyingly warm in the cool night air.

I let myself get lost in the movie, only half aware of Jareth shifting behind me.

“I’m going to grab some popcorn and something to drink,” he said after a few minutes as he nudged me off his lap. “Stay here.”

I nodded, watching him head toward the concession stand at the edge of the park.

When he came back, he handed me a steaming cup of hot chocolate and a bag of popcorn before sitting back down on thelog. This time, I didn’t even argue when he pulled me onto his lap again. It was easier, and the log wasn’t exactly built for two.

We sipped our hot chocolate and shared the popcorn. I could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest behind me, and when he pulled me closer, I didn’t fight it. The cool night seemed to press in around us, but he was warm and solid and… nice. Too nice.

For once, I didn’t feel like running from the moment. Jareth didn’t seem to mind either, and when I glanced back at him, his face was softer than I’d ever seen it.

“What?” I asked, my voice low.

“Nothing. Just watching you watch the movie.”

“That’s weird,” I said.

“Maybe. But you don’t seem to mind.”

I didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure I could.

The warmth of Jareth’s lap combined with the cool breeze lulled me into a state of complete and utter comfort. I hadn’t allowed myself to relax this much in days.

I wasn’t sure when Jareth’s hand shifted, but I noticed the gentle press of his palm on my thigh. At first, I thought he was just getting comfortable and maybe trying to keep me from slipping off his lap, but then his fingers started tracing idle patterns on my skin, delicate arcs that made me shiver. My heart fluttered. The night air might have been chilly, but my body temperature seemed to climb steadily with every slow caress.

I shifted a little, trying to maintain focus on the movie, but it was nearly impossible with his hand sliding under the hem of my skirt.

Jareth’s breath grazed my ear. “Don’t move,” he whispered so softly I almost missed it beneath the movie’s soundtrack. “And don’t make a sound.”

My pulse leapt at the command. Instinct told me to look around and make sure no one was watching, but the very idea of turning my head seemed risky, as though even the slightestgesture might draw attention. Instead, I forced myself to keep my eyes trained on the flickering screen. My vision was fuzzy at the edges—my mind consumed with Jareth’s fingers creeping higher up my thigh.

His fingers halted. “I can’t stop thinking about your bare legs under this skirt.”

A tremor zipped through me, and I had to clamp my lips shut to keep from making a sound. The rational part of my brain screamed that this was too public, and we’d get caught. But an equally strong part—the part that was fueled by curiosity, longing, and the growing ache between my thighs—urged me to stay still and let him continue. I couldn’t decide whether to push his hand away or open my thighs more.

Most of the people were focused on the screen. Some were whispering to each other, a few others stifled their laughter. Nobody seemed aware that Jareth’s hand had just slipped under my skirt. My heart rate escalated, pounding so loud I half expected the person on the next blanket over to hear it.

Then Jareth’s fingers slipped under my thong, finding proof of my arousal. He sucked in a breath as he dipped his finger into my soaking wet folds.

I gritted my teeth, determined not to make a sound, even though the impulse to gasp or moan rose in my throat. He moved painstakingly slow, teasing the sensitive area that was desperate for his touch.

I tensed and pressed my palms against my knees, trying to appear casual. The glow of the screen in front of us illuminated other people’s faces, but from our vantage point at the back, it was dark enough that no one would notice anything unless they were looking directly at us.