Page 95 of Blush Crush

She raises a skeptical brow. “He did? When?”

“While you were stuck in the kitchen. We had a little chat.” I pause, reluctant to share where my mind was. “I was kind of prepared for him not to like me.”

Her face does this cute scrunchy thing and I want to kiss the crease between her brows but I don’t. “Why wouldn’t he like you? He knows who you are.”

“Yeah but, I’m older. I’ve gotten around. I’m sure he wants someone better for you.”

I don’t know why I’m bringing this up. None of it matters when this is just an arrangement.

I don’t know why I’m doing a lot of the things I’ve been doing lately. Like cuddling her in my bed while she’s wearing my clothes, and scrolling through movies and settling on something I knew she’d like—when the thought of doing any of this with anyone from my past makes me want to crawl out of my own skin.

I think back to that suffocating feeling I got when Kennedy wormed her way in too close for comfort, and how I’ve never once felt that with Ariana. Not even close. If anything, it’s been the opposite. I’m the one who keeps pushing for more, finding reasons to be with her, to touch her.

I thought by now I’d be over this little obsession I’ve had with her, but it’s only gotten worse.

We continue watching the movie and though it’s not what I’d typically watch, it’s not half bad. And even better is how much more comfortable Ariana has gotten. She was stiff at first, like she was afraid to touch too much of me, but now her arm is draped across my stomach and her leg is hooked over mine, her soft curves pressing against me. So soft and so sexy and so much fucking torture.

My dick has been hard for the past hour, thankfully concealed by the comforter over the top of us.

It’s getting late and I know once the movie is over she’s probably going to want to leave but all I want to do is give her an excuse to stay.

At the lake house I kept my word and didn’t touch her once while we shared the bed. That guy was a hell of a lot stronger than I am right now.

She wraps her leg around me tighter and I swear I can feel the heat of her pussy on my thigh. I think she might be trying to kill me.

My hand runs up and down her arm slowly before moving to rest on her hip where I let my fingers crawl their way under the band of the sweatpants, finally getting a feel for the smooth skin there.

She sucks in a sharp breath, her body squirming slightly against me.

This woman is so responsive and sensitive to my touch, it’s fucking addicting drawing out all her little reactions.

Pushing past the worry of moving too fast, I slip my hand fully in, expecting to feel the fabric of her underwear, but all I’m met with is her warm, bare skin.

“Where did your underwear go?” I ask, still shocked to find her without any.

She looks at me, all doe-eyed and innocent, her cheeks flushed. “They were too wet. From earlier…”

Fuck me. She soaked her panties from dry humping my cock and now her bare pussy is inches from my fingers. I was right, she really is trying to kill me.

In the next breath, I’ve rolled over her, hands braced by her head to not crush her, using my body to cage her in.

Her gaze is wild as she stares up at me, wearing a sly little grin I want to kiss off her face.

“Did you think I wasn’t going to find out you ruined your panties, baby?”

She bites down on her pouty bottom lip and shakes her head.

“How’s your pussy now? Are you still wet?”

Rather than answer with words, she nods and parts her legs the smallest fraction.

I guess I’ll have to confirm that. Just to be sure.

Resting my weight on one hand, I use the other to slip inside her pants again, smoothing my fingers over her slick center. And fuck, she’s so wet.

Her body jolts from the contact, eyes rolling back.

There’s nothing sexier than seeing her turned on and needy. She was meant to be worshipped and I have no problem proving that to her—as many times as it takes for her to believe it.