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Fuck, I meant to keep that to myself.
“What?” She turns her head to look over at me.
“You heard me,” I say, doubling down on the question.
Might as well make a complete ass of myself.
“Were you eavesdropping, Mr. Vaughn?”
“I didn’t have to. You two were laughing like schoolgirls. I’m sure everyone heard it. Answer the question.”
“Just a guy I know. Why do you care?”
“Let me guess, deck shoes?”
Jesus, where is this jealousy bullshit coming from?
“Are we speaking in code here? I’m confused.”
“Nothing,” I mutter, turning my attention back to my phone.
“Whatever.” She rolls her eyes, messing around with a stack of boxes and empty containers behind us.
I lean back in the chair, watching as she bends over to tug on something, her shirt pulling up to reveal a small sliver of her porcelain skin. I run my hand over my jaw. The pants she’s wearing are tighter than anything I’ve seen her in previously. I take more than a moment to appreciate the perky, round shape of her ass.
I wonder what kind of panties Miss Flowers wears. A thong or G-string perhaps? Not a chance. She’s much too uptight for that. Probably cheeky or boy shorts.This woman not only infuriates me, but she also drives me mad with lust, making me want to defile her in her present position with a handful of her hair as leverage.
“Do you need help with that?” I stand up, focusing my attention away from her ass before I completely lose control. I walk up behind her as she messes with a box she’s struggling to reach.
“I think it’s stuck,” she groans as she tugs on one of the flaps. She tugs again but this time she loses her grip, stumbling backward just as I’m about to reach her. She crashes into me, throwing me off-balance. I wrap my arm around her as we both fall backward onto the floor, pulling her right onto my lap. Her arm hits the chair I was sitting on hard, a loud smack echoing through the booth.
“Shit, are you okay?” I ask, my hand resting flat against her stomach, her breath rapid. She doesn’t respond, her other hand gripping my forearm. “Daphne,” I say, bringing my hand from where it rests against her to her chin. I turn it so that she’s looking back at me. “Are you okay?”
She nods her head gently as I let my hand drift down slowly. I feel her throat constrict against the back of my fingertips as she swallows. Something is exchanged between us in a split second. Like all the pent-up frustration and miscommunication is channeling into tension so thick it’s like an… ooey, gooey fudge sundae.
I reach around and grab her arm that she’s cradling in her lap. I pick it up, turning it over to make sure she isn’t bleeding. “I don’t think you broke it,” I say, squeezing her wrist a little. “Does that hurt?”
“No.”
“How about here?” I drag my thumb over her palm and she shakes her head. “Your fingers okay?” I ask against her cheek as she turns again to look toward me. She doesn’t respond and I let my fingers intertwine with hers far longer than necessary. All I’d need to do right now is lean forward two inches, pressing my lips against hers. I can’t take my eyes off her lips but when I finally do and I look in her eyes, I know I’m in trouble.
I recognize the look on her face, pure unbridled desire. Her cheeks are flushed, pupils dilated, lips parted. Miss Flowers is turned on and that thought shoots straight to my cock.
Is this why she can’t stand me, because she’s attracted to me? Fuck me, this is about to turn into a situation.
My hand drifts back up to her stomach, my other hand on her waist as neither of us says anything. I know it’s only seconds ticking by but it feels like time is standing still.
“My shoe fell off,” she says finally, leaning forward to reach for it as I grip her waist.
I bite my tongue so hard, stifling a groan as her ass presses harder against me. She places her hand on my thigh, lifting her leg to put the shoe back on, but she drops it, bending forward again to grab it.
“Sorry, just trying to put this on so I can stand up.”
“Please stop moving.” My words come out strangled.
She shifts again, half turning her body to look back at me, causing more friction against my cock that is now about to make its presence very known. “Oh, sorry, am I hurt—”
“No, fuck no, it doesn’t hurt.” I blurt the words out as my eyes flutter closed. I grip her waist so tight, pressing her down harder against me. I’m half-embarrassed I’m having this visceral of a reaction to her sitting on my lap and half wanting to slide her panties to the side and beg her to let me fuck her. I lift her off me, practically tossing her to the side as I turn away from her. I’m panting, hands on my hips as I look up to the ceiling of the booth, praying nobody approaches.
