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Her hands move over my chest, over my nipples, down my abs, brushing over the head of my cock—and I jerk at the lightning pleasure. So close to coming.
I put my hands over hers to stop her. Shit. Now that I remember, that I am in the here and now, I can’t.
“Let me,” she whispers. “I want to touch you.”
“No.” I grit my teeth, because I’m dying for her touch, fucking dying, but I can’t. Her touch will break me, I know it. Pleasure will break me. Pain is the one thing that keeps me going. “Dammit, no.”
A flash of hurt goes through her gaze. “Sorry.”
Fuck. “Don’t be.”
She starts to turn away, her eyes wet, glittering in the low light. “You don’t want this.”
“Meg…” I catch her arm. “I do want this.” I want her, so bad. If my diamond-hard, leaking, throbbing cock isn’t proof of that… “But not now.” I force my brain to snap back into focus, to produce a coherent thought. I brush soft hair out of her eyes. “My head is not in a good place. And I want to take you out. If you keep distracting me, we won’t be going anywhere tonight.”
“Maybe…” She licks her lips and my dick twitches. “Maybe I’d rather stay here with you tonight.”
So tempting. I could just give in, let her touch me, hold me. I’d spill on her, inside her. Then make her come again, and again. And again.
Fuck. “Just…let me take you out. You had a rough day. Probably haven’t eaten since morning.”
She bites her lip, shakes her head.
Just as I thought. Besides, she’s sad and lonely tonight. She’ll probably regret this tomorrow. I’m not who she needs, and she’ll realize, sooner or later. I’m giving her time to see.
Yeah, as if my freaking out on her, coming to
hide in the fucking bathroom and then not letting her touch me isn’t enough of a clue.
“Two minutes,” I say. “I’ll shower, dress and we can be on our way. I know a nice restaurant nearby.”
She nods and turns to go, the slight sway of her heart-shaped ass hypnotic.
Fuck. Me. I need to turn away, I have to, but she lingers at the door, casting me a sideways look.
Hell, those eyes will be the death of me. Liquid darkness and heat. Her lips part as if she’s about to say something more, and man, she’s got the prettiest mouth—soft, full. Warm. Her gaze moves down my chest, to my crotch, and my dick jerks in response, trapped in my boxer briefs.
My resolve is about to shatter. My fists clench at my sides and my legs tense. I’m about to stride across the small bathroom, pull her against me and fuck her into the wall, my fears and excuses be damned. I’ll make her scream, and whimper, and call out my name until the neighbors come knocking on my door. She thinks she knows me? I’ll make her come so hard she’ll forget her worries about me, forget her own problems, forget her own name.
So it’s just as well she turns away and leaves, closing the door behind her.
***
The joint is small, a family-run Italian diner a few streets down. A creepy sensation makes the hairs on the back of my neck lift, and I glance uneasily around. I think I see a shadow slip into an alley. Meg’s stalker?
But I don’t see him again as we walk down the street. Without thinking, I reach for her hand, and she slips it into mine without a word.
What am I doing? Didn’t I convince myself I’m not who she needs? Isn’t holding her hand a boyfriend’s job?
But I don’t let go. Her small hand fits perfectly in mine—just like her body fits perfectly against mine, my traitorous mind whispers, and I tell it to go fuck itself.
The only reason I’m here with Meg is to celebrate her birthday and put a smile on her face. She’s frowning a little as she walks beside me, feathery strands of dark hair brushing her small face.
I force my gaze back ahead, but it doesn’t help with the images of her in my memory—her naked body stretched underneath me, miles of flawless tanned skin, mouthwatering curves, those sweet round tits and her pussy… The taste of her lingers, like caramel, on my tongue.
The cold shower helped, but now I’m rock hard again, and it’s making walking hard. Why didn’t I take the Mustang? Fuck me…
“I’ve been wondering...” Her fingers tighten around mine, and she leans closer. “When is your birthday?”
