AllFreeNovel
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I tug the bill of her cap playfully and back away. “Yep. Let’s go.”
Twenty minutes later, I park at the Murphy house. With the engine idling, I decide to forgo the good-night kiss and leave immediately. I can’t take the torture of wanting more and being rejected again.
“Thanks for dinner,” she says.
I open my mouth to say “No problem” when I remember something.
“Shit.”
Allie pauses with her fingers on the door handle, a questioning expression on her face.
“I left the plans for the deck upstairs,” I explain. “I can’t remember the measurements for the gate and I’m buying the hardware tomorrow. Do you mind? It would save me a trip.”
“Not at all. Help yourself.”
Inside the dark, quiet house, we walk side by side through the living room and up each stair step. We don’t touch but the heat between vibrates in the air.
My heart is hammering with every step we take, the moron. There’s nothing to be nervous about. There’s nothing happening or about to happen. Dumbest body part ever, mark my words. I take it back when my dick vies for first place, swelling as we slow our steps in front of Allie’s bedroom.
“Well. This is me.” She rests a hand on the doorjamb. Moonlight peeks through the windows, spilling down over the bedspread and across the thick carpeting on the floor.
We used to sit on that bed and study. And by “study” I mean that we made out, my hands on any part of bare skin she’d let me touch. Over the bra. Under the bra. Over the panties. Into the panties. Every touch was a test to see how much further she’d let me go until we went all the way that night of her parents’ party.
“They had to know what we were up to in here,” I say aloud.
Allie tugs off her ball cap, tosses it onto the dresser, and smooths her ponytail. “Ugh. That’s horrifying. I hope not. I’d like to believe they thought we were innocent. And that you were a gentleman.”
“I think they thought we were in love and let us be. Your parents are high school sweethearts. They know the deal.”
“I know.” Her throat works as she swallows. Then she bites her lip. Her eyes go to the bedspread—neatly made, unlike mine—before she faces me. Her voice is raw and vulnerable when she whispers, “Jax.”
Unable to deny myself any longer, I lower my lips to hers and kiss the sense out of both of us. Lips fuse and our tongues tangle as I back her deeper into her bedroom. I’m through hesitating like a nervous teenager. We’re not teenagers anymore. We’re adults. With adult thoughts and needs.
We bump into the bed, jarring us out of the trance. She’s panting and I’m panting…suspended for another heartbeat before she wrestles with my T-shirt. I help by hauling it over my head. Her small hands explore my pecs and abs, smoothing over the skin there and testing a muscle or two while she’s at it.
“Wow,” she murmurs.
I kiss her again and we somehow end up on the bed—with me on my back and her on top of me. Fingers in her ponytail, I tear it down, tossing the band aside and pushing the silken strands of her hair away from her face. She’s beautiful. She’s delicious. She’s surrounding me like water, and like being underwater, I have to surface to catch my breath.
Her lips skim the column of my neck and her hands slip lower and lower, teasing at the edge of my jeans. My hips lift of their own accord, seeking relief. Just one squeeze. Just one stroke.
Her hands climb my body rather than giving me what I need.
Rolling her to her back, I lift the edge of her shirt and palm her flat belly. Fuck, I thought her hair was soft. Her skin is heaven. The softest I’ve ever touched.
“Jax.”
Her hands are threaded in my hair and her hips lift.
“Jax…” she says again, but it’s not in the pleading, vulnerable way like before.
I want her to ask for more, but I can tell by her tone that she’s not going to. It’s a what are we doing Jax, or maybe a we shouldn’t be doing this Jax.
Hands gripping her rib cage, I give her a light squeeze, my fingers itching to slip under her bra and feel her creamy breasts—just once. Instead, I kiss her softly and remove my hand from under her shirt with a groan of defeat. I reroute my hand to her jaw, unable to keep from tempting her. Cradling her head, we make out, long and slow.
She moans, wraps her leg around one of mine, and tilts her hips so that she’s grinding into my thigh in the best/worst way.
With a whimper of defeat, she palms my face and pulls our lips apart. She shakes her head, as at a loss for words as I am.
