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If I look for other avenues, that could mean that exploring this attraction between the two of us could be good. Right?
“No one can know,” I say making sure I look into his eyes.
“No one,” he agrees.
“And you can’t pull the boss card,” I say quickly.
“I wouldn’t.”
“Alright.”
“Why do I feel like you’re agreeing to shut me up and that you’re against being with me?”
There is a part of me that is apprehensive, because of who we are. But I’m also willing to see what can happen and take this risk, because it’s true, I want him just as much.
I lean in and kiss him. Our tongues wrestle together as I wrap my arms around his neck. His hands roam my back and he presses me into him before I pull away.
“Did that feel like I was against it?” I ask.
“God no,” he leans back in, but I press my hand against his chest.
“Tacos.” I say pushing him back while he laughs and shakes his head.
“Tacos. Yeah, I wouldn’t want those to go to waste.”
* * *
His lips are pressedagainst mine, my back is up against the wall just inside my apartment and his knee is between my legs, pressing slightly against my center. I want to rub shamelessly against him, but I don’t want to look desperate, even though I’m nothing more than that. We’ve been doing whatever it is that we’re doing for the past week. We’ve had lunch meetings, that ended with a heavy make-out, we’ve taken the train home together, huddled together holding hands and sneaking kisses. We’ve eaten dinners, shared drinks and have dry humped on my couch to only leave us both sexually frustrated at the end of the night, because he’s asking for us to wait.
But with each day that goes by, my hormones are at an all time high and I want nothing more than to slide to my knees and take him in my mouth. Except, he keeps stopping us when we get to the point of anything more than over the clothes petting and make-out sessions.
I pull away from him.
“You need to go home, unless you’re planning on defiling me.” I tell him.
He grins, his sexy crooked grin and runs his nose against my cheek and down my neck as he cups my breast and lifts it, kissing my cleavage and sending shivers down my spine.
“Fuck, Quinn, seriously, this is so unfair.” I whisper.
“I want our first time to be perfect,” he tells me.
“It will be quick, and dirty. Because I feel like I could hump your leg right now to get off.”
“You can, you know. Slide up and down my leg, leave a nice wetness against my thigh.” He says, repeating his actions on my other breast cleavage.
“Don’t tempt me, Montgomery. I will ride your thigh so hard; you don’t want that. I don’t want that, but I would.”
He laughs and pulls away.
“Dinner at my house, tomorrow night. Bring an overnight bag to work, come in late, stay an extra hour so we can leave together and not bring it to anyone’s attention. Sleep over at my house and you can ride my thigh all you want.” He smirks.
I lightly slap him on the chest as he steps back.
“I should torture you, just as much as you’re torturing me.” I tell him.
“How do you know that you’re not?”
“Well, you’re sure as hell hiding it a lot better than I am.”
