Page 36 of About the Green

“Right… Joking…” I wonder aloud. “I don't even know he knew how to do that.”

"All right, tell me—" The first press of the pad to my skin is torture. Though the temperature is actually quite cool, it burns like fire against my raw wound. I immediately press my thighs together, unable to find sense in the rush of that heat surging south. Vert continues, "Tell me more about that milkshake. Was it really worth all this?"

Gritting my teeth, I say, "Do you mean getting out of the car with the man who stuffed me into a trunk because I didn't want to talk about my feelings?” I snark. “Yea, it was worth it."

He scoffs. “And they say I'm avoidant."

"You know, two things can be true at once," I say. "I don't know if you know this, but sometimes people go through things that they don't want to talk about."

He gives me a look and opens the next package of alcohol wipes. "There's plenty that I know, even though you seem to think you're the very first person to understand what it means to be goin’ through somethin’."

I release my lip only to respond as he cleans over the most open part of my burn along my hip bone. "I don't think that you don't understand. I just know that you won't give me the type of consideration you’d give someone else."

"And how do you know that?" He removes the wipe and tosses it into the trash can with the others.

"Did I mention that I just barely escaped from a trunk tonight?"

"Yea, that might have come up," he says, opening the gauze so that he can tape the large swath of it over my skin.

The rip of the skin tape's packaging is loud in the room as silence settles between us for a moment.

"Did you really think you could outrun me?" he asks and though the words aren't meant to be sexual at all, I can feel myself growing hotter. My stomach flipping at the thought of him truly chasing me.

I close my eyes and press my thighs together, hoping that it will stave off this new fuel to the fire roiling in my core, but it doesn't.

It only makes it worse.

"What should I do about this?" he asks.

My eyes fly open as his thumb presses into the soft skin of my thigh where moisture has already begun to roll down. He watches it roll down and over the divot under the pressure of his thumb and then over his knuckle.

Saying something that would be appropriate is not anywhere near my wheelhouse. Hell, what would be said about this particular kind of arousal. Something deep in my body recognizes my own wetness on his skin as a claim and though I’m currently in his hands and at his mercy, I want more of it to cover him. To coat him with my arousal and not wash it away.

The idea is blaring in my mind and the events of the day blur into some bizarre mix of emotions that I can’t make logical sense of.

I have no idea what I would say if I were anyone else, but because I'm me, I can't help what comes out of my mouth.

"Lick all over," I exhale, the words sounding far closer to a purr.

That catches his attention, one of his thick eyebrows raising over interested eyes. "Oh, you think so?"

I didn't know Vert knew ball.

There's no one else in this hotel room.

There's no one else here, and even still, who would give a fuck if I gave in to this?

I've never not wanted him, but I also have never had him play with me or tease me.

"Please," I beg, and it comes out sounding as small and needy as it could.

The accuracy of my plea is unmatched by the heavy way my desire is sitting in my lower belly right now, standing completely naked in front of a man who I know better than to be vulnerable around—emotionally or physically.

I’m not in danger, per se, but the look in his eyes as he assesses what drips from me freely for him is carnal, at best.

But at this point I am a wounded animal, and if I'm his prey, then that's not the worst thing I could be…

He sits back on his haunches, not bothering to hand me the towel that's by his hands, that's by his knees, only assessing my body fully exposed like this.