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“Neither did I.” I push her hair behind her ear. “I should’ve manned the fuck up and said something to him sooner.” I blow out an annoyed breath. “You’ve been asking me to for weeks…” What else can I say that doesn’t make me sound like the ball-less wonder Remy accused me of being?
“I understand.” She curls her fingers around my hand and sets it on her leg. Her smooth, bare leg. The spot right above her knee that I love to grab. “Can we not talk about Remy for a little while?”
She shifts her body, positioning herself directly in my lap, her knees tight to my hips. Heat races over my skin. I tug at the collar of my shirt.
“Can I tell you something?” she asks in a low voice.
“You can tell me anything.”
“I can’t stop thinking about that night in your car.”
I clear my throat as she moves in closer, her lips hovering near my neck. She doesn’t have to say which night in my car. I already know. The same night plays over and over in my head too.
“You made me feel so good, Griff.” She presses her lips to a spot below my ear I never realized was so sensitive. “I want to learn how to do that for you.”
Liquid fire shoots through my veins. “Yeah?”
She nods slowly.
I slide my hand up her thigh, straight under her loose shorts, encountering nothing in my way. Just her warm, silky skin. I repeat the motion with my other hand until I’m clutching her bare ass. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
She laughs softly, the vibrations spearing me like jolts of electricity. “No, I’m not.”
Testing a theory, I slide one hand out from under her shorts and tease it under her shirt. She arches her back, bracing her hands on my knees and giving me room to skate over her rib cage and finally cup her breast. “You’re not wearing a bra, either.”
“No, Griff,” she says with teasing patience. “This is what I slept in. I wasn’t expecting guests so early.”
“I’m definitely not complaining.” The discovery may have rendered me stupid, but no complaints. I palm her breast and sweep my thumb over her nipple. Her body jerks, and she lets out a soft gasp.
“You like that?” I’m aching with the desire to shove the material out of my way and tease her nipples with my tongue.
She nods slowly. “Yes.”
I slide my other hand under her shirt and flick my thumbs over both nipples. A sweet mix of desire and nerves spreads over her face. She’s so sensitive, jolting and gasping with every slight brush of my fingers against the hard tips. I circle one tight peak with my knuckle. “I want to kiss you here.”
A slow shiver ripples through her body. “I want you to.”
I lift her shirt a little, baring her stomach. “Wanna kiss you here too. And?—”
“Griff.” She closes the distance between us, forcing me to move my hands or have them trapped between us. Fine by me. I slide them up under her shorts again.
She lowers her mouth to mine. “Kiss me.”
Her lips touch mine—warm and tentative. A thrill I only feel when I’m behind the wheel pushing my car to its limits, or winning a fight, rushes through me. At first, it’s a soft, slow kiss. Then she spears her fingers through my hair, cranking up the intensity. Desire and the urgent need for more pounds through my blood. The kiss turns possessive and demanding, fueled by pent-up frustration. She flicks her tongue against mine and moans, the sound traveling straight to my dick.
She pulls away and stares at me. “You’re really all mine now?”
That’s the best question I’ve ever been asked. “Yes.”
Someone clears their throat in the hallway.
Like a rocket, Molly shoots herself sideways and out of my lap, kneeing me in the dick in the process. She sits straighter than a ruler and clasps her hands in her lap like a Catholic schoolgirl about to take communion.
I wince and press my palm over my broken dick.
“What did I say, Griff?” Remy growls from right outside the doorway.
I wheeze in a painful breath. “Uh…” I count off on my fingers. “No sleepovers. Keep the door open…”
