Her legs stretched out, hooked the backs of his knees, and hauled him closer, until his half-hard dick pressed against the heat-soaked seam of her jeans. Both of them exhaled harshly at the contact, and her lids went half-lidded, but she didn’t blink. Didn’t release him from that tractor-beam gaze.
If he kissed her, she’d taste like honey, rich and melting and subtly floral. Sticky on her lips, sweet on her tongue. Sweet on his tongue too, as he sucked the tip of hers.
He gripped her hand for dear life. Because if he let go, he’d seize her by the hips. Hold her in place and grind his erection against her until they both came.
The constriction of his jeans, the friction against hers, the soft give of her inner thighs—they were agonizing. He wanted to plant his feet andrut.
“I suggest a staring contest.” Her velvety voice stroked over him, and if his cock had gone stone-hard, his knees suddenly hadthe structural integrity of an underbaked meringue. “Sixty seconds without blinking, close up. I’ve heard that’s a really effective trust-building exercise.”
He shook his head, trying to clear it. Because, yeah, his article inCorporations Todayhad listed a staring contest, but... weren’t they kind of doing that shit already? Even if someone offered him the amount of money her house was worth to look away from her, he couldn’t do it. Not for a single second. Not right now.
When she shifted on the stool, his dick rubbed against the scorching inner seam of her jeans. He stifled his own groan, but a little noise escaped her throat, and her cheeks flushed.
Yeah, he was stroking in just the right place. Friction through the fabric, cock against clit, just as he’d suspected.
Those blue, blue eyes burned hotter than his butane torch. Hot enough to char his damn bones where he stood.
Off-balance in every possible way, he dropped her hand and braced his palms on either side of her, gripping the table hard enough that his fingers ached and the stainless steel should’ve bent under the pressure. Tried his best not to move. Tried not to roll his hips, grind hard, and find out just how much they could do through two layers of denim.
His guess? A whole lot. Even more if they stripped off those jeans.
And if he didn’t wrench himself away, right now, he’d also find out how much disinfectant he’d need after taking Molly right here on his worktable.
He wanted her so goddamn much. But... heneededmore. Neededeverything.
“Motherfucker,” he ground out.
With effort, he broke eye contact. Broke the loose hold of herlegs and stepped way the hell back. Kept retreating until he hit the cool cinder-block wall beside his sink. Ignored the temptation of her seemingly involuntary sway toward him and her small sound of protest.
“You...” He ripped a hand through his hair, every nerve howling in agitation and thwarted horniness. “You know how a real staring contest would end, Molly.”
She subtly pressed her thighs together, then blew out a shaky breath. “With us sleeping together, you mean?”
“Yeah.”
Another fifteen seconds of that up-close eye-fucking and cock-to-clit contact? He’d jump her, if she didn’t jump him first. Even though he’d planned to wait until he was certain she trusted him, was certain she wouldn’t leave his ass behind yet again.
She shrugged. “I know.”
Her voice was cool and calm as a breezeless lake. If he hadn’t nearly incinerated himself in the heat between her thighs, couldn’t see her fingers trembling as she laced them neatly in her lap, he’d be completely convinced. Think she was unaffected.
Great acting. Not good enough to fool him anymore, though.
In another infinitesimal movement, she squirmed a bit on that stool. Shifted her legs, even as her cheeks continued to burn.
He watched. Considered.
He couldn’t have her yet. Didn’t matter how much he wanted to.
But if she needed to take the edge off? Could use a demonstration of what he could do for her, dotoher, if given the chance?
Well...
In that case, he was at her service. Which he’d be happy to show her.
Right goddamn now.
13
