Page 35 of Crossed Lines

I wait patiently in the hall outside the bathroom and get more than a few looks from women going in and out of the bathroom. I simply nod my head and attempt to look like I’m not being fucking weird.

Finally, Willow walks out.

“Beck?” I grab her wrist and lead her down the hall toward the back door.

Once we’re outside, she asks, “Is something wrong?”

Yes. Something is wrong. Me feeling this way is wrong.

I turn back to look at her. “Why are you letting him touch you?”

Her brows crinkle in confusion. “What? Who?”

“Ace. He had his hand on your waist.”

Her face relaxes in realization. “I didn’t realize you were paying so much attention to me.”

“I always pay attention to you.” Even if I don’t want to. Even when I know I shouldn’t.

A smile tugs at her mouth. “So you’re jealous?”

“No.” Yes.

“No, I’m pretty sure this is textbook jealousy right here, Beck. You saw another man put his hand on my waist, and you got upset because you want to put your hand on my waist.”

“I…” Yeah, that’s exactly what I want.

She doesn’t wait for me to offer any other explanation. She grabs my hand and pulls me toward her. She places my hand on the strip of skin showing between her skirt and her top. “Touch me, Beck.”

I move to pull my hand away, but she tugs me back closer. She looks me in the eyes and repeats, “Touch me. No one can see. It’s just you and me.”

I’m hesitant at first, knowing I shouldn’t be doing this. But her skin is so soft. Just like I’d imagined it to be. I shift my hand slightly enough to squeeze her side. Then I walk us backward until her back is pressed up against the building.

With shaky fingers, I trail the skin just above the top of her skirt. I move slowly, not wanting to rush this in case it’s the only time I ever get to do it. Willow shivers as I drag a finger under her belly button.

My fingers stop at the hem of her shirt. I look up into her eyes and slide my hand under her shirt.

Her lips part, and I feel her breath hitch when I get to her bra. I stop there, waiting for her to give me permission to continue. After a slight nod, I move my hand under her bra, feeling her breasts for the first time. I rub my thumb over her nipple. It hardens from my touch. God, what I wouldn’t do to put my mouth around it right now.

I can’t do that, though. I can’t even look down to see what I’m touching. I keep my eyes locked on Willow’s and let my fingers do the exploring because I know I shouldn’t be looking at her body, and I know if I do look, I won’t be able to stop.

My cock hardens against the zipper of my jeans as I put my other hand up her shirt, gently massaging her other breast.

Willow tilts her head back slightly to show she enjoys my touch. Her pleasure emboldens me, and I move one hand down her body toward the bottom of her skirt. I slip my hand up the denim until I’m rubbing on the thin piece of fabric blocking me from her pussy. Her underwear is soaked.

My cock is begging to be released. It would be so easy to slip inside her. To pull my cock out and push all the way in until she’s moaning my name.

As if reading my thoughts, she whispers, “Beck.”

I pause. Her voice pulls me out of the trance her body had me in. I drop my hands and take a step away.

“Beck?” This time my name is more of a question than a moan.

“Shit. Shit! What am I doing?” I rub my hands through my hair, tugging on the ends in frustration.

Willow fixes her shirt before she steps up to me, pulling my hands away from my hair. “Beck, stop.”

“I can’t do this, Willow. I can’t touch you like that.”