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“Quit pretending to be mad,” he said, now nuzzling at the tender skin of her throat. “You’re doing a shit job of it.”
It was actually getting really hard to remember why she was mad at him in the first place, especially when he was finding hot spots Paige didn’t even know she had, while rhythmically grinding his hard cock against her.
He was a master at multi-tasking.
“So, just out of curiosity,” David said, pulling back to look at her. “If I had won, what would my something ‘good’ have been?”
She had to force herself to focus on his question. “It would’ve been a lot like my something ‘good’, except I’d sweeten the deal by putting my hand down your pants.”
“Yeah? Well, now I’m really wishing I’d tried harder to win,” he said softly.
His unspoken invitation was clear, and she decided to accept it. Her hands went to the button on his jeans and there was a bit of fumbling before she got it open, his forehead resting against hers the entire time, his breathing heavy.
Feeling slightly shy, she pulled the zipper down, then eased her hand inside his briefs and wrapped her fingers around his hard length. As she reacquainted herself with all the contours of him, it struck her that if touching his chest had seemed surreal, then this was in the next galaxy over from surreal.
She had her ex-husband’s cock in her hand. And boy, did she like it.
Apparently, he did, too, if his deep groans were any indication.
David, for the most part, didn’t care if he sounded like a wounded animal, because her hand was torture. He got lost in the silk of her tight fingers as she stroked up and down in a gentle rhythm, until his legs started to feel weak and he had to brace a hand against her door.
He could practically feel the blood pulsing through his veins and hear his heart pounding in his chest—
No, it wasn’t his heart. It was … someone knocking on Paige’s door.
Never had there been a more unwelcome sound in his life. That is, not until—
“Paige, honey?”
Paige froze in mid-stroke, her eyes going comically wide as she stared at David, whose equally wide eyes darted to the door in a combination of disbelief and horror.
“No,” he whispered. “No. No. No. This isn’t happening.”
Mrs. Harte knocked again. “Paige, are you okay? Your keys are still in your lock.”
David came close to face-palming himself when he realized he’d been the idiot motherfucker who left the keys in the lock. It was his own fault he was being cock-blocked right now by a seventy-year-old barracuda. So, technically, he was cock-blocking himself.
Oh, the painful, awful irony.
David reluctantly removed Paige’s hand and then made a face as he hurriedly tucked himself back in his pants; it was a really tight fit. “Go out there and get rid of her,” he told Paige as he plucked her shirt off the floor and clumsily dressed her as if she were a child. “And for the love of God, don’t let her know I’m here. I’m in no shape to see her.”
“I’m not either, actually—”
“You don’t have a massive hard-on, so you’re good to go,” he said, pushing her toward the door.
“Stop. I can’t go out there without a bra,” she protested.
“Yes, you can. She’ll never know. It’s not like she’s going to be looking at your tits or anything … right? Right. Now get out there and get rid of her. Quickly.”
Her hands went to her hair. “Do I look okay?”
He took in her mis-buttoned shirt, her flushed cheeks with traces of beard burn, and messy hair—all of which were his fault—and gave her an encouraging smile. “You look fine,” he lied, because now was no time for the truth. He was concerned that the old lady was on the verge of using Paige’s keys and coming in. “Come on, please get rid of her. You can do it.”
This time the knock was sharper, and there was a telltale jiggle of the doorknob being grabbed. “Paige, honey, I’m—”
David opened the door just wide enough to shove Paige through, giving her no choice but to go out in the hall and talk with Mrs. Harte. Then, like the coward he was, he stayed behind the door, not taking any chance that the old lady would see him through the two-inch crack Paige left when she didn’t close the door all the way.
“Oh, there you are,” Mrs. Harte said, clearly relieved. “I was really starting to get worried. I thought maybe something terrible had happened, like maybe you’d been abducted or something while you were trying to open your door.”
