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My hand, operating with a mind of its fucking own, shifted down a bit, then back, sinking into the hair at the nape of her neck, curling into it, about to tug her head up so her soft lips were more available to me.
It was the damned vibrating of my phone on her countertop that snapped me out of my thoughts, that made me jerk suddenly away.
The spell of the moment broken, we both stiffened, created distance.
“I, ah, so were you just here to steal my food?” she asked, voice sounding huskier than usual, and it was like a stab of desire through my system.
“No.”
“Then why?” she asked, busying herself with running water over my plate, acting like the task required all of her focus.
“Your stitches,” I told her, using the excuse I’d come up with for seeing her again.
“My stitches?” she asked, turning around with scrunched brows.
“They need to come out,” I reminded her.
“Oh, right. Yeah. I was about to make an appointment with my doctor for that.”
“A doctor who would have questions you can’t answer,” I said, reaching into my back pocket for the small medical kit I’d stashed there. “Ten minutes,” I said, then turned to head down the short hall and into the bathroom, setting the kit on the sink counter.
It was a solid minute before I heard Whitney making her way down the hall as well. I couldn’t help but wonder if she’d been using that minute to try to calm the desire building in her system. Like it was in mine.
She stood there in the doorway, unsure.
And I was sure that what came out of my mouth next didn’t exactly help that situation.
“Take off your clothes,” I said as I turned on the tap to wash my hands. At the strange choked sound she made, my head swiveled over my shoulder. “I can’t just unbutton your top and pull up your skirt this time, can I?” I asked, watching as a way too fucking appealing flush spread across her cheeks.
Knowing I saw it, a bit of stubbornness must have built inside her, because she angled her chin up, then reached down to snag the hem of her shirt, drawing it up and over her head.
I had approximately two seconds where her head was covered in the material of the t-shirt to let my gaze move over her.
And fuck if the bra she chose to wear on her off days wasn’t the kind that had no goddamn padding or even much lining.
So her nipples pebbled up against the material, and it was impossible to stop my mind from imagining sucking them into my mouth, scraping them with my teeth, teasing them with my tongue.
But then the tee was on the floor and I had to look away, pretend to busy myself with looking at my supplies. When all I really needed was the sharp little scissor and the tweezers.
My peripheral vision, though, was good.
So I got to partially watch as her fingers undid her button and zipper, then as she shimmied the pants down her soft hips, exposing those thick thighs and the swatch of black material between.
I couldn’t stop it.
My mind flashed back to being at her feet in that bathroom, to pulling her panties to the side, and burying my face between her thighs, working her clit until her body was spasming into an orgasm as her hand crushed my skull, as her moans filled my ears.
“Okay. What now?” she asked, making me look over.
Not wanting to seem shy or overly modest, given that I’d already seen her in various stages of undress, she nervously fussed with her hair, tucking then un-tucking it from behind her ear.
“Come over here,” I said, realizing how thick my voice was only after it was out of my mouth.
Judging by the way her breasts rose sharply, like she’d sucked in her breath, she heard it alright. And liked it.
Fuck if that wasn’t the worst part.
It wasn’t like the desire was one-sided.
