AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I’m reciprocating, hitching a leg around his leg to get him closer, closer in any way I can because some part of my body—some unknown, unidentified, painful part of my soul—wants him.
For the first time in my life, I love my height, five eight and the tallest in my class. For the first time in my life with a man, I hitch that leg and don’t have to move much more than to my tippy toes to line his hard cock up with my center.
With the movement, he groans, the sound deep in his chest, and with his mouth to mine and our chests pressed together, I feel the vibrations everywhere.
I moan.
I moan freely and openly, and fuck, the realization hits me: I want this man. His hand has moved to my ass, gripping me at my full hips, the other hand still tight on my braids, the feeling causing delicious pinpricks of pain and pleasure I never thought I’d be the type to crave.
But my moan also snaps me out of my haze.
I can’t do this.
I can’t get lost in this.
For so many damn reasons, starting with this man is my neighbor who hates me, moving to I get attached and hurt easily, and ending with the fact that I have so much trouble and drama chasing me that I don’t need to involve this man in.
Regrettably, my hands move up to his chest, and I push gently, moving him back.
To his credit, he lets go instantly, stepping back to put two feet of space between us.
“Stop. We can’t . . . We can’t do this,” I say, trying to get my words straight, my mind straight. His face is a mask of confusion tinged in lust.
I know the feeling well.
“Did I hurt you?” His brows are together, the confusion morphing to concern. “I didn’t mean—”
“No. You didn’t. I just . . . I can’t do this.”
“That was good,” he says, still maintaining the distance I asked for, still staring at me, confused.
You and me both.
“Yes. It was.”
Mistake.
Huge fucking mistake.
His lips turn up with amusement.
“But you don’t want it?” I sigh, trying to decide how to explain that it’s not a want or don’t want kind of thing.
So I don’t.
Instead, I turn from him, as if being in front of him bores me, face my work table once more, and start scooping.
“It can’t happen, Ben,” I say, portioning batter into lined tins as if nothing happened, as if I’m not working to make my hands stop shaking.
The distance between us shortens, and even though I refuse to turn back, I can still feel the heat of his body seeking mine.
He’s so close to me.
A mix of shock and fear runs through me as I realize I want this—I want his body heat on mine, the warmth and the lust and the . . . security.
But that can’t happen.
“You keep telling yourself that, sweet girl. That this won’t happen, can’t happen.” Hot breath is on my neck and a finger brushes the nape, moving my braid aside. “But we both know we can only resist this for so long.”
