Page 70 of Playing By The Rules

And that’s some scary shit.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either,” she admits, her voice low, her gaze on me, her fingers still streaking down my cheek, though now they’re making their way to my mouth. “We didn’t kiss near enough for my liking.”

She presses her index finger into the corner of my mouth, like she’s trying to make a point.

“Not enough?” I almost take it like an insult.

Blair slowly shakes her head, that topknot on her head bobbing with the movement. Her hair is damp, I’m assuming from a shower, and her skin is fragrant. Smooth. I release the back of her neck and rest my hands on her exposed waist, pressing my fingers into her skin, making her breath hitch.

“Not nearly enough, Cam,” she whispers.

I like hearing her say my name. I like the way she seems to savor it. Like it’s her favorite word.

I also really do hate that shirt she’s wearing. Knowing that her ex-boyfriend from high school gave it to her fucks with my head. Who was that guy to her? Did she love him? Did he break her heart and make her cry? I don’t respond well to tears. I’ve seen enough of them come from my mom over the years, always when she’s raging over something my father did to her.

The idea of Blair crying? Or worse, the idea ofmemaking Blair cry?

My heart aches just thinking of it.

“Can I confess something to you?”

I meet her gaze, noting how big her eyes look. Almost as if she’s scared.

“Tell me,” I demand.

“I thought about doing something…very specific to you earlier,” she admits.

My dick twitches in excitement. My brain is automatically filled with visions of Blair on her knees and my cock filling her mouth. Though I am pretty positive that’s not what she’s referring to.

“What did you want to do?”

“I still want to do it.” She sinks her teeth into her plump lower lip, and I almost groan out loud at the sight. “Can I show you?”

“Uh, sure.” She can fucking show me whatever she wants. I’m game for all of it.

She sits up straighter, readjusting herself on my lap, her ass brushing against my dick, and I wince, wishing I could readjust myself. At least I’m in shorts and not jeans. It wouldn’t take much to free the beast, so to speak.

Blair brushes a stray strand of hair away from her face and blows out a nervous breath while I sit there and wait in anticipation over what she might do.

Grab my junk?

Tear my clothes off?

Grind on my dick?

I am ready, willing and able.

But then she does the most surprising thing.

Leaning in, she brushes her lips against my cheek. It’s soft. Sweet. Far too brief. Then she does it again.

And again.

She kisses me all over my face. Tender presses of her lips all over my cheeks, my chin, my forehead. Even my nose. She avoids my lips the entire time, and I’m filled with the need to actually kiss her. Thrust my tongue into her mouth and taste her.

But I restrain myself, my hands clutched into fists and resting on my thighs. I can’t touch her. If I do, I won’t be able to control myself, and I also can’t lie.

I’m enjoying this way too much to stop her or to change our focus. It’s…sweet.

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