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“That’s blackmail.”
He shrugs. “Never said it wasn’t. You can take them off yourself or I’ll do it for you. Your choice.”
That’s not a choice and he damn well knows it.
My mouth feels like the Sahara. There’s not a drop of refreshment to be found for miles.
His fingers drift from my center to the slim band encircling my hips. “Guess I’ll do it—”
“Fine!” I huff out a frustrated breath and try to keep my nerves under control so they won’t break loose before tossing the book to the side.
My fingers tremble as I grip the thin fabric. His attention stays pinned to mine. More than anything, I want to rip my gaze away, but I find myself unable to break the invisible connection that binds us.
I’m caught in the crosshairs of his eyes. All the different flecks of green dance, sucking me into their beauty like a vortex. A heady concoction of fear-laced excitement pumps wildly through my system, making it impossible to get a firm grip on my thoughts.
When he lifts a brow, I force myself to shove the cotton down my thighs until I’m able to kick it away. The thick wool material of my skirt falls over me, shielding my center from his hot gaze.
“Was that so difficult?”
I swallow past the thick lump that has wedged itself in the middle of my throat. The heaviness of his palm settles on thebare skin below the hem. His fingers flex before curving like talons into the supple flesh. I can’t help but stare at the place we’re now connected. There’s such a contrast to our bodies. His skin is a dark, sun-kissed hue while I’m pale. Where I’m soft, he’s calloused and hard. As much as my mind wants to reject the notion, there’s something infinitely sexy about his large hand wrapped around my bare leg, holding me firmly in place.
“Time’s ticking. Shouldn’t you continue?”
I jerk back to awareness, gaze snapping to his. It would be impossible to miss the smirk that lifts his lips and the humor that flares in his eyes. He’s loving this.
Loving that he’s so easily able to knock me off balance.
“Yes.” My hand quivers as I pick up the book and delve into chapter three.
After a few paragraphs, his fingers glide to my knee before drifting upward again. The tempo of my voice increases as his hand slips beneath the fabric, sliding over the curve of my hipbone. My breath comes out in a rush as it descends. Back and forth he strums, never moving toward the juncture between my thighs. As much as I attempt to concentrate on the words, it’s impossible with the way he caresses my flesh.
His hand stills as he asks a question, seeking clarification.
My brows knit together and I scour my brain for the answer.
How can I be expected to pay attention to the story when he’s touching me like this?
My face heats as I flip through a couple of pages. Honestly, I should already know it, but my brain appears to be malfunctioning.
When I resume reading, his fingers glide across my bare skin. Only this time, they drift along my inner thigh, edging dangerously close to my pussy. Even though I keep my attention focused on the page, the heat of his stare burns holes into me. Probing for answers to questions he has yet to pose.
When his hand ventures closer, grazing my bare lips, I shoot from the bed and the book falls to the floor. If that happened any other time, I’d immediately drop down and pick it up before dusting it off to make sure there wasn’t any damage.
As I stare warily at him, the paperback is all but forgotten.
“You startle easily.” There’s a beat of silence as he rises to a seated position, scooting to the side of the bed closest to me. “Hasn’t anyone ever touched your pussy before?”
Shaking my head, I retreat a few steps, needing more distance. Only then do I acknowledge that we could have this entire house between us, and it wouldn’t be nearly enough.
“I think we should change that.”
“What?” My eyes bulge. “No.”
Gaze fastened to him, I back up until my spine hits the far wall and I’m flattened against it.
He crooks a finger as his lips curve. “Come here, Delilah. I won’t hurt you. Promise.”
When I remain still, he says, “Don’t you believe me?”
