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Goddamn, but she feels like silk. My fingers drift to the elastic of her panties before trailing to her calf and gliding upward for a second time. Her underwear is hardly more than a scrap of material barring the most intimate part of her. It’s so damn tempting to tear it away until she’s bared to my sight. With my gaze locked on hers, I slip two fingers inside the thin band and caress the soft skin beneath.
Her breath hitches, getting clogged in her throat as she flattens against the French door she’d been staring out when I’d stepped inside the room. Her palms are pressed against the glass. I’d much rather they tunnel through my hair or draw me closer.
“You never answered my question.” Not once do I stop exploring her flesh. Back and forth my fingers strum as her pupils dilate, the blackness all but swallowing up the forest green.
“Question?” She gulps.
A smile hovers around the corners of my lips. “Whether or not you’ll forgive me so we can move forward.”
“Oh.” She drags a lungful of air into her body before forcing it out again. “Right.”
When she lapses into silence, I grow impatient. “There’s something here, Brooke. Don’t you feel it when we’re together?” My fingertips sink into the suppleness of her hips to add emphasis to the question.
“Yes.”
Good.
I don’t know what I would have done if she’d said she felt nothing. There would be no choice but to prove what a liar she is.
“Give me a chance to show you I’m not that guy. That I never was that guy.”
Maybe it’s unfair to touch her all the while demanding answers, but I don’t give a damn. I’ll play dirty and do what’s necessary to make her mine.
She presses her lips together as I loosen my grip, continuing to stroke my hands over her. I graze her inner thigh, once again coming dangerously close to her pussy. Her eyelids grow heavy, and her breathing turns ragged as I torment her.
Or maybe I’m the one being tortured.
It’s difficult to discern.
This girl has always driven me crazy. The more I touch her, the more desire is ignited within me. It no longer feels possible to push this desperation to a place where I can ignore its existence and pretend it isn’t consuming every part of me.
Her tongue darts out to moisten her lips as fear flickers across her expression. “Crosby…”
“What, baby?”
“I couldn’t bear it if you hurt me again.”
Even though her words are little more than a forced whisper, it’s enough to send a tidal wave of shame crashing over me. “I swear to you that I won’t.” I can only hope to God it’s a promise I can keep.
Unable to resist the temptation any longer, I sweep my fingers beneath the material to graze her slit. A fine tremble wracks her body, and I have to stop myself from raising her leg and draping it over my shoulder.
Instead of delving in the way I want to, I slip my fingers free before wrapping my hands around her hips and pulling her forward until I can bury my face against her heat. For one blissful moment, I breathe in the sweet scent of her before pressing my lips against the silky material covering her pussy.
Unwilling to take it any further, I rise to my feet until she has to crane her neck in order to hold my gaze. What I love most is that I’m the one who put that dazed expression on her face.
“I want to spend time with you after this.” I kiss one corner of her mouth before giving the other side the same treatment. “Are you up for that?”
When she only continues to stare, I nip at her lower lip, sucking the fullness into my mouth before releasing it with a soft pop. “Hmmm?”
“Yes.”
Everything rioting inside me calms, knowing that tonight won’t end with this fundraiser.
“Good. You should probably get back downstairs before Elaine realizes you’ve gone missing.”
With a quick kiss against her lips, I give her a little nudge toward the bedroom door.
She stumbles forward on her heels before throwing a heavy-lidded look over her bare shoulder. It takes every ounce of self-control not to stop her from walking away.
It’s only when she slips through the door that I release the pent-up breath in my lungs and begin the silent countdown until I can once again lay my hands on her.
26
BROOKE
Nerves tap dance up and down my spine as I glance in the rearview mirror and find Crosby’s Mustang trailing a couple of car lengths behind my Volkswagen. My fingers tighten around the steering wheel in an odd concoction of anticipation and anxiety.
What is it about him that gets to me?
That burrows beneath my skin like an itch I can’t quite scratch. The attraction I’ve felt for him has always been there, forever simmering beneath the surface. It was so much easier to keep him at bay when I thought he was just an arrogant player with a massive case of the assholes.
