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He smoothed down her back, rubbing slow circles along her spine.
She pressed closer. She hated how weak she was. That nothing felt as good as his arms. That his palm, heavy on her back, made her feel safe. She barely moved for fear he’d stop. Eyes closed, she took a deep breath to soak in his scent, that spicy, clean smell. She needed to be close to him. She burrowed deeper.
His fingers brushed the bare skin where the hem of her shirt didn’t quite meet her shorts.
She gasped, her lips touching the skin on his throat.
He tensed.
The air between them thickened.
Heat cut through her sadness, making her ache all over.
He skimmed his fingers under the cotton of her top, and she felt him grow hard against her hip.
Their breathing quickened.
She shifted, fractionally, wanting to get closer. Wanting to sink into him.
His hand gripped her hip.
She arched, sliding her legs down his thighs so they parted.
He pressed his palm flat against her stomach.
Every movement between them was jerky and brief. As though that way they could pretend not to notice.
Her pulse hammered in her throat.
His fingers snaked under her top and brushed her belly.
She moved her thigh flush against his hard cock. He traced her ribs, his thumb brushing the underside of her breast.
She hissed, all the air leaving her lungs.
Don’t stop.She squeezed her eyes tight. Please don’t stop.
His thumb kept rubbing the curve of her breast, not moving close to where she needed him most. She bowed, thrusting into his hand.
“Sophie.” Her name was a moan on his perfect lips.
She tilted her head.
He lowered his.
Their mouths met, not hard like she’d expected, but a soft glance. His tongue touched hers. Danced against her. His thumb swiped over her nipple and she groaned against the sensation.
All of a sudden he stiffened and pulled back, his hands retreating to safer territory and his head lifting, taking his sinful mouth away.
He shook his head. “This isn’t why I’m here.”
She’d never felt so rejected in her life. She’d have done anything to keep him touching her. There wasn’t anything on this earth that would have made her stop, but he’d pulled away.
She straightened and mumbled, “I’m sorry.”
She got up from his lap, but he gripped her wrist, and pulled her back before taking her jaw and forcing her to look at him. When she met his eyes, she saw how shadowed they were, the blueish tint under his lower lashes. The strain in his face.
He suffered. Because of her.
