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“Not yet.” I yank the sliding door open and step outside to my balcony. The air is cool and damp. It must have rained in the last hour. I set her down.
“Here?” Around us, lights twinkle as we overlook Clarendon Street. “Are you crazy?”
“You’re trying to avoid the memories but I’m quite happy to make them.” I brush a strand of hair from her face but the breeze blows it back into place.
“People will see.” She looks down to the street below.
It’s not that busy, being late. And a work night.
“So?” I grin.
I capture her mouth—the soft glide of her tongue against mine has me hard as stone. She tastes perfect. I slip one hand between us and slowly rub against the tender, throbbing space between her legs.
“You’re...” She shakes her head, gasping as I increase my pressure. I back her against the railing of the balcony, wedging her against the thick glass. “Insatiable.”
“For you.” I know the words are true the second they leave my mouth. Emery has me wound up, flipped inside out.
Tonight was...illuminating.
The simple act of sitting around a table, playing games with my family, having her by my side, comforted me on a soul-deep level. It was a picture I’d sketched in my fantasies so many times. You see, people thinkthisis the fantasy—a hot woman panting, legs spread.
And it’s good. Scratch that, it’sgreat.
But what I crave in the deepest, darkest recesses of my mind is something else entirely. Something a whole lot like what we did tonight.
“Oh!” Emery’s head jerks back as I pinch her nipple through her top, and she rubs against me.
I need to focus on my attraction to her, to keep my attention on this instead of the glimpse of happiness I had before. Because sex is safe. It’s satisfying and rejuvenating, but it won’t change me.
Before, the laughter and the jokes and the wholesome goodness...that could change me.
Shamelessly, she rubs against my hand. “If we get arrested, I will never forgive you.”
I press my lips to her neck and chuckle. “That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”
I reach for the fly of her black pants, popping the button and sliding the zipper down. When I slide my hands inside her underwear, I find her so wet it makes me almost blow on the spot.
“Good Lord, Emery,” I groan in her ear. My fingers slip through the contours of her sex, finding her clit and rubbing a series of slow, intense circles.
“Yes,” she gasps, her fingers curling into my hoodie.
I bring my mouth down to her neck, my finger softly stroking the seam of her sex. Not too much. Not too fast. I’m winding her up, tightening the crank of her desire so that when she shatters, I’ll be able to think of nothing else.
Not of how protective I felt hearing about people treating her bad. Not of how relaxed I felt having her next to me. Not of how tonight made me realise that I want what Glen and Dom have.
That I could very easily want it with her.
“Please.” The word winds through me, her plea like fire in my veins.
“Are you ready? Are you ready to feel my fingers fuck you?”
“Please, please.” She can’t string any more words together and they dissolve into sounds, into groans and gasps and cries. I slip one finger inside her, then two. She clenches around me immediately, trying to draw me all the way in. But I hang on to control, sliding in and out. Slowly. Teasing. Easing her into it.
I use the heel of my palm on her clit while I fuck her with my fingers, finding a rhythm, simulating what’s coming next.
“Oh. My. God.” Her body shakes and she tumbles. I hold her until she comes out of the fog. Until her heart slows and her breath comes in longer beats.
“See. No one cares what we’re doing,” I say, pressing my lips to her cheek. The street below us is empty, unchanged. Cars pass on the rain-slicked road, lights glimmering off the wet surface.
