Page 52 of Want Me

Eric laughed and relented, starting to pull his hand away until I caught it and pressed it back to my skin.

“So what do you want to do with the rest of the night?” he asked. “Hang out with your friends?”

I shook my head, sucking in another harsh breath as he rubbed over my nipples and dragged his thumb down the middle of my abdomen. “I was thinking maybe we could go get something to eat, just you and me. Hang out like we were supposed to weeks ago.” I wanted to spend time with him alone, make good on that night we hadn’t gotten to before the conversation with Mark had upended things. I was asking him for a date, I guess, and it honestly felt pretty good. The prickle in my stomach this time wasn’t the sick sludge of anxiety, but anticipation.

Eric cocked his head to one side, and the smile he tempered said he was restraining himself from calling me out on it. He wanted it, too. The needlepoint tickle in my gut became a warm tingle. “Sounds good. Now?”

“Yeah.” I grabbed for his hand again when he started to roll upright and yanked him back down, bracing myself over him. His eyes met mine in a warm green haze that went blurry as I dipped down and kissed him. Just a soft stroke of my lips against his because if I did anything more than that it’d be hard for me to tear myself away. “I’m crazy about you. You get that, right?”

His eyes danced with amusement and crinkled up at the corners like he was about to make some quip, but he only arched his neck up to nip my lower lip before shoving me backward. “Yeah, but you start talking like that right now and it’ll throw a wrench in our plans for the rest of the night because I’ll start getting ideas in my head about hearing you say it when I’m on my knees with your dick in my mouth and then we won’t be leaving this room until that happens.”

I straddled him, ground my hips against him hard enough to draw a sharp grunt from him, then slid off the end of the bed to stand with a grin as I adjusted myself. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Too late.” He grabbed the hand I extended and yanked himself upright. “But I’m good at delayed gratification.”

“Yeah, no shit.Toogood.”

His laughter echoed behind me as I opened the bedroom door, already thinking about the moment when I’d close it behind me again and let him strip me down in multiple ways. My clothes first, and then that wicked magic he did on my inhibitions. Hmm, maybe going out on actual dates was overrated.

6

Keep Me

“What?” I asked. The weight of Eric’s stare was like a third person sitting between us in the car.

“You want a hand job?”

I glanced over. He appeared dead serious. That hunter’s gleam was darkening his eyes, and all that was missing was a smirk or tilt of his head. “While I’m driving?”

There it was—not a smirk or head tilt this time, but a subtle lift of his chin in casually seductive invitation. “Yes.”

“Do you want to die?” Fun fact: I’d discovered a motherlode of hand-job-while-driving porn some weeks back and had imagined this scenario going down between Eric and me at least fifty times. And that was probably where the fantasy should remain, because I was 100 percent a flail risk when Eric was anywhere near my dick. Even now I started shifting around in the driver’s seat trying to covertly adjust myself.

“Blowjob, then?” His lips quirked as he glanced down at my crotch.

“How’s that better?”

“Because at least then I’d go with a dick in my mouth.”

I blinked at him in disbelief, then cracked up. Totally fucking lost it. “You ain’t right.”

“We already know that.”

I wasn’t willing to test my mettle against the Grim Reaper. Or Eric’s hand job skills in a motorized vehicle. Instead, I reached over the console and took his hand in mine. He turned a slow look in my direction, a trace of a humored smile forming at the corners of his mouth. “What’s this?”

“I hear it’s a sign of affection or something.” I stole a play from his book and arched a brow. “I’m test-driving it, since I’m a babe in the woods with all of this. Or whatever the saying is.”

“You seemed pretty well versed in the woods the other night.” The smile that’d been hovering at the corners of his lips tipped into sly territory, and I bit back my own grin, focusing on the road again. Eric didn’t pull his hand away, though, and a few moments later he asked, “So what’s the verdict?”

I made a face. “Not sure I’m a fan.” Handholding had never been my favorite thing, regardless of who it was with. It inevitably reminded me of being a kid crossing a street, or wandering the aisles of department stores with my mom.

“No?” Eric angled in the corner of his seat, propping his elbow on the windowsill and resting his temple against his fist. With his other hand, he turned mine palm up and laced his fingers so slowly between mine that I swore I felt every nerve ending in that small surface area waking up at the drag of his warm skin across it. The tips of his fingers closed over my knuckles with a firm press, and my cock twitched in my boxers as he ran his thumb along the side of my palm. I sat there dumbfounded yet again at how he could make even the most mundane thing sensual and appealing. Suddenly I wasn’t thinking of crosswalks, or my mom’s rings pressing into my chubby little hands, but of Eric’s sweat-slick grip slamming my hand against a wall, a mattress, a desk, as he plunged into me.

“How about now?” he asked.

“That’s not handholding. That’s like…hand fucking. Or hand seduction. Your hand is seducing mine, and my hand has zero game. It’s just gonna hop in the bed with yours without even dinner or a drink first. Maybe I need to give it a lecture about standards.”

Eric threw his head back and laughed. “All right, maybe, yeah, your hand is a total slut. But do you like it better?”