Page 7 of Tell Me It’s Forever

I’m attempting to distract myself and my thoughts by reading, but something tells me a spicy romance novel probably isn’t the best idea to calm my racing thoughts. But as my eyes track across the words on the page, my phone on the bedside table vibrates across the wood. My heart races inside my chest. Nobody calls this late at night unless something’s wrong. I set my book down on my stomach, reach for the device, and swipe at the screen without checking the caller ID.

“Hello?” I murmur into the receiver, my voice raspy from the simmering-on-edge arousal all night and sheer exhaustion. A low sharp intake of breath sounds over the line, followed by a familiar voice.

“Fuck, Genevieve.” His soft growl settles low in my stomach. “You sound like you were thinking about me.”

“Gavin. I… I wasn’t. I mean, I just got into bed.” True to his word, he found my phone number before the night ended.

“Did you?” A quiet rustle comes through his end of the line, followed by the sounds of what I’m assuming is a belt buckle clinking, and then a thud of something hitting the floor. “What were you doing before I called?”

“Reading.” My mind is a scrambled mess envisioning him stripping while on the phone with me.

“Reading what, baby girl?”

“A book,” I answer vaguely, clutching the sheets by my side. “A romance novel.”

“Is it a good one?” There’s more rustling. Then his breathing changes, a little faster, a little rougher. “Is it turning you on?”

“Gavin.” I swallow hard, placing my cell between my cheek and my shoulder, battling with myself if I should answer him or not. Can I really do this?

“Tell me, baby girl. I want to know what’s happening on the page right now.” His tone is commanding, leaving me no other option but to answer.

“It’s, umm… a spicy scene,” I whisper into the quiet of my dimly lit bedroom.

“What kind?” he pushes, his tone deepening. “What are the characters doing?”

“She’s… she’s on her knees for him.” A heavy silence stretches across the line for a few seconds, filled with the sound of Gavin’s deep groan. I can’t believe I’m doing this, actually doing this, and with a man I hardly know, except he clearly knows something about me. Like how he makes me wet with the merest of touches, how he calls me baby girl, and how he looks at me with unbridled desire.

“The next time I have you alone,”—his rumble is deep, each word deliberately laced with intent, and, god, does it make heat unfurl low in my belly—“you are going to open that book, sit in front of me, and read that exact scene out loud. And while you read it, I’m going to do every single filthy thing the main character does to her. Do you understand me?”

“Gavin,” I gasp sharply, my thighs clamping tightly together. I’m wet, no, I’m soaked, and we’ve barely done anything.

“Now”— the sound of a zipper sliding down solidifies he’s naked, it’s also followed by a growl that causes my nipples to pebble and goose bumps to appear—“it’s time for you and I to play, baby girl. I’ve been hard as a fucking rock since seeing you on that stage. Three damn days of staying this way, using my hand, and not getting an ounce of relief.”

“Gav…” My pulse hammers, and self-doubts start to swirl around in my thoughts.

“Get ready, baby girl.” My attention is back on the here and now with only two words: baby girl. “Tell me what you’re wearing right now. Describe every piece.”

“Nothing.” I bite my lower lip as the confession slips past my lips. Ever since I dropped my ex-boyfriend, Bryce, I returned to sleeping in the nude. There’s something sensual about it, and when you don’t have a guy in your ear making derogatory remarks to you, it helps tremendously.

“Nothing?” he repeats my response, his voice dropping lower.

“I’m completely bare beneath the sheets,” I whisper. The statement leaves my skin tingling from head to toe.

“Good girl. Now tell me where you are,” Gavin rasps through the line.

“In my bed. On my back.” Maybe it’s from being touch deprived, or maybe it’s Gavin himself. Whatever it is, I’ve never been this daring or felt this free.

“Pull the sheets down. Let the air hit your pretty, golden-bronze skin. Fuck, I should get in my car and drive to your house.” I do as I’m told, dragging the sheets and duvet down, exposing my breasts, my stomach, my pussy, and my legs.

“It’s gone.” I shiver. My nipples harden into tight peaks.

“Good.” On his end, I hear the distinct slide of skin against skin. The heavy sound makes my eyes flutter closed and my thighs rub together, begging for relief.

“You’ve got me ready to blow my load, baby girl. Cup your breasts. Squeeze them for me and pinch your nipples.” My hands move on auto pilot with my phone tucked close. Both of my hands are free, and I do as he says, feeling the heavy roundness of them, my thumbs brushing over the sensitive tips. A whimper escapes my throat, my back arches off the mattress, and I rock into the pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s it,” Gavin growls into my ear.

“Tell me, what are you doing.” I become bolder.