I suck in a breath. Our second Christmas. The only holiday we ever spent with her parents. The only time I’veever had sex with someone in their parents’ house. I’d been against it from the start, but when Jess had locked that door behind us and stripped off her top, I’d been a goner. I’d had to cover her mouth to keep her from screaming the whole house awake.
I adjust my position again, knowing that if she looks, she’ll be able to see how much one single memory is affecting me.
“Tell me about your favorite time, Nick.” Her voice has dropped, and her smile is knowing. Her eyes glance down to my pants, but I cover myself with my almost-empty glass. That only makes her smile wider.
“Every time with you was incredible, Jess. But that first Christmas, you were wearing a lacy red bra a lot like the one you are not-so-subtly trying to get me to look at right now. You dropped to your knees in the middle of the living room and took me in your mouth. It was fucking perfect.” I let my gaze linger on the hint of scarlet lace peeking out of her shirt.
The flush from her cheeks spreads down to her chest, and when I finally tear my eyes away, I see her eyes are almost black in the low lighting of the room.
She sets her whiskey glass on the side table next to the chair. “What would you do to me, right now, if I stripped off this shirt and told you to make me come? How would you touch me, Nick?”
My mouth goes dry. That took an unexpected turn. I set down my own glass. “Jess, I don’t know if this is a good idea. I was just teasing, trying to get a rise out of you.”
Her eyes drift down to my crotch. “I seem to have succeeded in getting a rise out of you.”
I choke on a laugh. “You usually do.”
She sits back in the chair and stares me down. “Are you going to answer?”
I wipe my hands on my thighs. “We’ve been drinking. I’m not going to touch you while you’re drunk.”
“I’m not drunk. And I don’t want you to touch me. I want you to talk to me.” She fingers the hem of her shirt like she’s thinking about removing it.
“Isn’t it my turn to ask the question?”
She shrugs. “So ask.”
“What’s the best book you’ve read lately?”
She reaches for her glass and swallows the last sip of whiskey. “My turn. What would you do to me to make me come?”
Chapter Seventeen
Jess
Fuck me, I’m going to regret this.
Somewhere between the wine and the whiskey and the even more intoxicating sound of Nick’s voice, I completely lost the plot. This was supposed to be about closure, putting the final nail in the coffin of a relationship that’s been haunting me for years.
Instead, I’m too close to a man I’m still deadly attracted to. His dick is hard, my panties are wet, and I’m practically daring him to talk dirty to me.
Note to self: No more whiskey. Like ever.
Nick hesitates for so long I start to think he’s going to refuse to answer. That would be the smart thing to do.
Apparently, we’re both idiots.
Nick’s voice is low and rumbly, and when he begins to speak, I have to shake off a shiver. “If you took off that shirt right now, Jess, I think at first I would have to just sit here and look at you.”
Goddamn it. Why is that the hottest thing he could possibly say?
“You’re gorgeous, always, but when you’re aroused,Jess. I can barely stand it. Your chest flushes the same bright red as your cheeks. Even your nipples flush, a perfect rosy pink. I’d lick along the edge of that lace before letting my tongue trail down. I want to tease you, torture you a bit”—he gives me a wicked grin—“and I want to take my time. It’s been so long, and I’ve missed the feel of your soft skin under my lips.”
Holy hell. I am the stupidest person alive because this is so not what I expected, and I am not prepared. Nick already demonstrated earlier today just how deftly he can write a sex scene, why didn’t I realize those talents would extend to narrating? We’re only a few sentences in and my nipples are hard as diamonds.
“Do you want me to stop?”
I know I should say yes.
