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“You didn’t pull away,” I reminded her.
“I was just…”
“What?”
She shook her head, and when she reached forward for the wine glass I didn’t stop her from taking it. I watched her take a long, anguished sip before pouring myself a glass.
“Nothing is happening between us,” she said firmly.
“Fine,” I said. “Look me in the eye and tell me that you didn’t feel anything when your body touched mine.”
“I don’t have to explain myself,” she protested, but her voice was more strained than firm.
I closed the distance between us on the couch, and my knee brushed against hers.
“Then tell me to stop,” I challenged.
“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t tell you to stop,” she replied breathlessly, and I smiled because that was exactly what I wanted to hear. I took a sip of wine, then I set my glass on the table.
As I brought my hand back up, I let my open palm catch on her knee, wrapping around her bare skin under the hem of her pencil skirt. She didn’t move away.
“Mr. Preston,” she gulped, but all the protest was gone from her voice. I was close enough to feel her heart pounding, vibrating between us.
“Just say the word,” I whispered, squeezing her thigh. She inhaled heavily and her back arched towards me. Her nipples were hard again, piercing through her shirt, and as she licked the wine off of her glistening lips. I felt my own heart race, wondering how wet I was making her.
Now there was no doubt that she wanted this, no doubt that her body was responding to mine, and no doubt that we both felt the fire between us. My cock stiffened in my pants, throbbing impatiently, but I reminded myself to stay in control. We may both know what she wanted, but that doesn’t give me permission for all the things I wanted to do to her.
I leaned forward, burying my face into the soft milky skin of her neck but held my lips back. It was as much of a tease for me as it was for her. I wanted to taste her skin, wanted to fill my mouth with her warmth.
“Tell me to stop,” I said again, trailing my lips along the underside of her jaw, then over her chin, until our mouths were just inches apart, separated only by her silent hesitation.
And then Daisy surprised me. She angled her face up suddenly, and pressed her lips firmly against mine.
The contact made my need for her explode. I pressed my hand further up her skirt, exploring her bare thigh, while my other hand tangled through her soft blonde hair. My tongue spread her plump lips apart, licking away the leftover wine.
I felt her hands crawl forward to reciprocate, carving out the shapes of my muscles through my dress shirt. I moved my hand up to her own cotton work shirt, feeling the soft tent of her hardened nipple with my palm, then clenched my fingers around her breast and squeezed until a soft moan broke free from her lips.
I moved my hand up, plucking open the first button of her blouse, and then, out of nowhere, her phone buzzed urgently from the glass coffee table.
Just as suddenly as the kiss began, it ended with her pulling away and reaching for the phone. Her eyes shifted between the phone’s digital screen, then up at me.
“It’s CPS.”
6
DAISY
“Someone sure was out late,” Raven said, bending down to take a seat next to me on the schoolhouse steps. “Doing all those after-school activities,” she added, wiggling her eyebrows and licking her lips.
“Shh!” I hissed, nudging her in the ribs. “This isn’t the appropriate time or place to talk about that.”
“Ooooh” Raven squeals gleefully, “So something did go down with Mr. Tall Dark and Handsome?”
“No,” I hissed. “Nothing went down. I just don’t want to have an adult conversation while we’re supposed to be focusing on the one-hundred screaming children that we’re responsible for keeping alive.”
Raven rolled her eyes and slumped back onto the steps. She pulled a cheese stick from her paper lunch bag and ripped off the plastic wrapper.
“They’re fine,” she said, waving a dismissive hand at the children that are skipping around the playground manically. “And besides, I think a little bit of adult conversation is exactly what we both need right now,” she shook her head at me. “If I have to have one more conversation about Thomas the Tank Engine, or whether eating finger paint will turn your poop blue--”
