Page 77 of If I Stopped Haunting You

Laughing, Pen stripped off her pants and sweater. Once she was down to her underwear and her tank top, she gently shoved him down and straddled him once more, the condom held between them. “If you’re asking if I brought this knowing you’d be at the castle, the answer isno. I keep them on hand. In case.”

“In case,” he echoed, hands going to her hips. His thumbs drew gentle circles in her skin, squeezing and kneading.

Pen followed the movement with wide eyes. She used to be self-conscious about her body. She’d spent most of her childhood relatively thin until her curves had blossomed practically overnight, filling out her thighs and breasts until she felt like she’d snap in half. She was aware of the slight scarring on her thighs, on her breasts, but the way he gripped her, the way his hands skated across her, his nails digging in, made her feel like the sexiest woman alive. She didn’t want to hide in front of Neil.

Leaning up and wrapping one hand in her hair, he pulled her closer, lips hovering over hers. The five seconds it took for him to kiss her was pure agony, and Pen bit down on his lip, eliciting another groan from deep in his chest. Grinning against his lips, Pen slid her fingers below the elastic of his boxers and thewaistband of his jeans until he was firm in her hand. He was so impossibly hard for her, and she wondered if today wasn’t the first time, if he’d ever thought about her like this before. Or if it was only the castle, the close proximity, the adrenaline rush. What if none of this was real? What if he didn’t care about her in the way she was beginning to care about him? She pulled her hand out of his boxers, dipping her face into his neck and hair to hide her embarrassment.

He ran a thumb along her cheek. “Where did you go just now?”

“Have you ever… nope, never mind. We are not going there.”

“Penelope.”

Pen cleared her throat, blinking up at the canopy over the bed. “Is this new? You and me?”

He leaned back. “What do you mean?”

“Have you ever… felt this? Like,felt? As in…” She gestured to their laps, cheeks blazing, and Neil laughed. She tried to move away, but he captured her around the waist and tugged her back, eliciting a matching groan from her.

“I can’t even begin to tell you the number of times I found you infuriatingly sexy. I didn’t want to, but I did.” He nudged her tank top and bra down before he caught one of her nipples between his thumb and index finger, gently rolling it until it hardened. “That time you wore that blue dress to the Shelley Awards? The one with the slit up your thigh, and only one strap?” He blew out a breath exaggeratedly.

“I didn’t even win,youdid. How do you remember what I wore?”

“I didn’t give a shit about winning, Penelope. I spent the night drooling over you and the next month fantasizing about what I’d do to you in that dress if I ever saw you again, knowing I wouldnever act on it because you clearly hated my guts.” Neil bent and sucked on her nipple, pulling until it popped free. “And last night? When you licked the whiskey from your hand?”

“You got turned on from that?” she croaked.

Neil cupped her chin gently, his expression suddenly serious. “I have spent the last several years treating you like a nuisance instead of the incredibly brilliant and attractive woman that you are because part of me thought you could never feel anything but animosity toward me. You underestimate yourself, Penelope Skinner.”

Pen searched his features for any hint of a lie, but she found nothing. Her mouth crashed against his. Suddenly, they were all hands and lips and teeth and tongues, and Pen tightened her hold on him, her body writhing with his, wanting and needing and taking.

Pulling back and holding the condom wrapper in her teeth, she tugged his shirt over his head and stared down at him. He didn’t have chiseled abs or a lean physique; in fact, Neil had a bit of a soft belly. Neil Storm spent his days bent over a laptop, thinking and writing, and something about that image only made her ache for him more.

Smiling, Pen reached for his pants. He inched backward until he climbed off the bed and stood at the edge, waiting. Her fingers smoothed down his chest and skimmed the soft skin below the waistband of his pants. He made a deep sound in the back of his throat, his skin hot to the touch under her hands. Pen took her sweet time unbuttoning his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers, and a fresh wave of heat slid between her already slick thighs at the sight of him.

She wrapped her fingers around him, slowly stroking, her thumb gliding over the tip. He moved against her as she pumped her hand along his length once, then twice, before she pulled the wrapper from between her teeth. Neil shook his head and gently pried the condom from her fingers before setting it aside.

“Not yet,” he said.

“What do you mean? What are you doing?”

Grinning mischievously at her, he knelt. Gripping her thighs, he tugged her to the edge of the bed, snapping the elastic of her plain cotton underwear. The slight sting of pain made her gasp, and Pen reached up to squeeze her breast, watching him with a hungry expression. Nudging apart her knees, Neil tentatively slid down her tank top until it bunched just above her hips, his fingers skating across her shoulder and making her ache. She watched, transfixed, as he leaned forward and used his teeth to pull down her other bra strap. He cupped her full breast in his warm hand and sucked on its fullness, teeth clamping down on her nipple as his tongue encircled it. His other hand traveled down her stomach until he crushed the heel of his hand against the space between her legs, just as he’d done in the study.

Arching back, Pen whispered his name, small, slender fingers sliding into his curls as the pressure between her legs built. Pen’s other hand tangled in the bedsheets, gripping tighter and tighter as she edged closer to release. But right as she was on the brink, he pulled his hand away. Pen opened her mouth, ready to complain, her hips lifting slightly as though to chase after him, when he kissed the delicate, sensitive skin of her inner thigh.

“You don’t have to,” she protested shakily.

“Do you trust me?”

“Neil.”

“Penelope.”

Her lips parted as she stared down at him, at this man with curls that flopped every which way, who had gentle hands and piercing green eyes. Where would they be if she’d just approached him, been honest all those years ago?

They couldn’t change the past, but they could change the future if she let him.

“I trust you.” She nodded vigorously, her fingers pinching hernipple until the areola tightened and pebbled. She breathed shakily as she laid back, her eyes fluttering closed as Neil nudged aside her underwear, and his fingers brushed the spot where she was so ready for him. “I trust you,” she repeated, for herself this time.