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“What are you thinking?” She asks.
I circle her back with my knuckles, rolling my hand up and down her soft skin.
“How beautiful you are.” It’s not a lie.
“Do you sweet talk all the girls you bed like this?”
I smirk to myself. “Only the ones who run away from me.”
She inhales and lets out a slow breath.
“What are you thinking?” I throw her words back at her.
She takes a moment and then says, “How if we shouldn’t be doing this, then why does it feel so good?”
“Who says we shouldn’t be doing it?” I know she’s right, but I want to hear her answer.
I feel her head lift and she peers up at me. “Probably everybody we know.”
I stare back at her. “What do your friends think?”
She rolls her eyes. “They don’t count.”
I grin. “They’re the ones that encouraged you, aren’t they?”
“Charlize, mainly,” I admit. “Because she’s dirty, with a foul mouth, and she said if I didn’t jump you then she would.”
“Christ,” I mutter.
She giggles.
“Tell me something, Ariana,” I go on.
She bites her lip as I brush the hair off her face.
“What do you think about all of this, really?”
“You know what I think. I bounce back from: we shouldn’t be doing this, to: this is so fucking good, how am I going to stop?”
I love her honesty.
I try, and fail, to hide my amusement. “Summed it up pretty well.”
“It isn’t my fault, in all fairness.”
I caress her cheekbone, loving how her skin is pink and flushed. Though we’re still connected, I need her again, I need her all fucking night.
“Oh?” I reach up and peck her gently, beginning our next round of foreplay. “Why is that? You think you’re so innocent, Ariana?”
She returns my kisses, grinning as I pull back when she wants more.
“Tell me,” I whisper, denying her.
“Because you’re so fucking hot, Mr. Bentley.”
I let her kiss me, and I run my hand down her body and squeeze her ass. She pulls back and shakes her head with amusement on her face.
“What’s so funny?”
