Page 72 of Over the Limit

“Touching you is my new favorite thing.” And just as I spread my thighs wider to give him unfettered access, he says, “And I’ll continue right after you finish what it is you were going to say.” His fingers stop, just atop of my clit. It’s enough pressure to know he’s there and to remind me how much I want his touch. “So? I know we just had sex, plan to have more sex—I’m adding that last part for myself—and it’s amplified because of the wanting and the waiting part but . . .”

I open my mouth and then close it, feeling ridiculous that I opened this door. How can I verbalize my thoughts to him when my logic says it’s absolutely ridiculous to feel this strongly for someone in this short amount of time?

“Blair?” He rubs his finger in a subtle circle to remind me of my choice—be honest and be rewarded or keep to myself and miss out.

“I’m not a firm believer in insta-anything.”

“Insta-anything?”

My cheeks heat in embarrassment. I’m just glad he can’t see them. “Mm-hmm.”

“As in lust? Chemistry? Belonging? Love? What?”

“All of the above.”

“And let me guess, you’re busy trying to tell yourself none of those things are possible while I’m here about to tell you it is. There’s a reason I said twenty-one days. I don’t believe in that shit either, baby, but all of the above is exactly what we are, and I’m fucking fine with that when in a million years I’d never think I would be.”

“Lachlan.” It’s just his name but it represents the dozen questions I have running through my head.

How can you say that?

How can either of us think this and not be absolutely batshit crazy?

How is this even possible?

“You think this is easy for me? All I’ve ever done my whole life is race. I’ve stayed between those lines and looked straight ahead, only focusing on the podium. I’ve been with women, sure, but nothing has ever distracted me from racing. Not like this.”

“Now you’re telling me you’re the virgin,” I tease.

He chuckles and it rumbles through my back. “Now, did what just happen between us feel like what a virgin would do?”

“Um. No.” That little pop of his hips that hits all the right places? Most definitely not.

“Why do you think I said twenty-one days?” He presses a kiss to my shoulder.

“Because you’re a masochist.”

“Perhaps.” Another rub of his stubble over my shoulder. “Or perhaps it was because if I’m going to break all my rules, I need to make sure. But . . . fuck, Blair, the thought of you only grew stronger. More pervasive.”

“Great, so now I’ll be the one to blame for a bad season,” I joke.

“Uh-uh.” He tugs on my hip so I roll over and come face-to-face with him. I reach up and run a hand over his cheek, my fingers touching lightly over his lips. “You are just the distraction I need. The person who might help me put things into perspective. You’re all of the above.”

It should unnerve me. Those words. The conviction with which he says them . . . but they don’t. He doesn’t. And simply because I feel it too.

Because I know it too.

I tip my chin up and brush my lips over his as his hand slides down to cup my ass, the tips of his fingers so very close to where I want their touch.

“How do we do this though?” I murmur against his skin.

“How? Well, it starts with me touching right here.” A gasp falls from my mouth as his fingertip finds purchase and pushes its way into me, moving leisurely.

“Not that.” The words are a moan that coincides with my fingers tightening on his chest. “That’s not what—”

“Then this?” He palms my breast so my nipple is at a perfect angle for his lips to close around it. The warm, wet heat of his tongue is like a mainline to my core. His cock thickening against my thigh enhances the sweet ache singing through my body.

“I’m not going to complain about that,” I murmur as he brings his lips back up to mine so that our tongues dance against one another’s for a slow, sensual kiss. “I mean this. Us. The outside world.”