Page 64 of Wild Card

“Tobias…” I whisper. “I didn’t think this was still a possibility. That you still saw me like that.”

“Climb the ladder.” He steps back abruptly and points to the antique ladder that leads up to the higher shelves.

“What?” I blink, trying to figure out what he’s asking for.

“Climb the ladder.” He nods. “Don’t say what again.” He gives me a sharp look, and I do what he’s asking. Taking a few steps up and glancing over my shoulder.

“That’s good. Now turn around.”

I teeter a little on my heels but manage to brace myself with the handrails. The ladder’s more like a very steep set of stairs and I can lean back on it to help balance myself. I raise my brow at him in question, hoping there’s a point to whatever this is we’re doing.

He walks up to me, his eyes level with my waist at this position. His hands slide up the back of my thigh highs and under my skirt. His lips press against the inside of my knee before he begins a tortuous ascent, pausing every couple of inches to kiss me again. My skirt bunches higher with every inch he moves up and the slow anticipation of it has me getting wetter by the second.

“Lean back and spread for me.”

I tighten my grip on the handrail and lean back, hooking one heel into a rung of the ladder. He tucks the edge of my skirt up, so I’m half exposed, and the cold air of the room sends goosebumps over my upper thighs.

“This right here. This is how I see you. Every single fucking night. Telling me you can’t stop watching the videos we made. Begging me to put my mouth on you.”

“I do.”

“That what you planned to think about when you let him touch you tonight?” He steps forward and slides his fingers between my legs, a muted groan escaping when he finds me exactly how he wants me. “Wishing it was my hands and my voice talking you through it.” His fingers dip inside me, working me slowly and teasing me with just enough to make me want more.

“I wasn’t going to let him touch me.”

“No?”

“No.”

“Fucking right. Because no one touches you like I do.”

I whimper when his thumb brushes over my clit, bringing the teasing up another level to torture.

“You promised you were going to think of me when you watched that video. Do you?”

“Yes.”

“How often?”

“Whenever I watch it.” I give a non-answer because I’d rather play this game a while longer.

A self-satisfied grin forms. “I bet you work here all day and then go home and watch it. Every night using your nightstand arsenal and wishing it was my mouth on you again. Don’t you?”

“Not every night.”

He lets out a short laugh. “Yeah, some nights you probably don’t make it home. But that’s okay. Sometimes I don’t wait until you leave.”

“Lucky I haven’t caught you again.”

“I wish you would have. So I could put you on your knees. We both know how much you like being there for me. See it in your eyes every time I watch that video we made.”

“Fuck Tobias. Stop torturing me.”

“Torturing you?” he answers with a question, feigning confusion like he doesn’t know what I’m talking about.

“You’re holding back. Not giving me enough of anything, and it’s cruel.”

“All you have to do is ask for what you want. That’s all you’ve had to do this whole time.”