Page 17 of Wine & Dine

“Hmm…only if you ask me nicely.” He has no idea what his suggestion does to me, and my fingers slip over my bare thigh under the now-warm sheets. Tenderly, I stroke my inner thigh—so close, but not quite where I need.

“Dolores.” His voice dips when I don’t reply. “Whose bed are you in?”

I swallow the lump in my throat. “Yours.”

Garrett groans through the phone, and my fingers trace closer to the prize at the center of me.

“What are you doing in my bed, stunner?” He has no idea what his words do to me. You look stunning, his rugged voice whispers in my memory. I can’t tell him what I’m doing. I can’t tell him how close I am to touching myself. How it’s been so long since I’ve felt this way. Desirable. Pretty. Turned on.

I don’t answer with anything other than a moan. I mean it to signal I can’t speak, but he groans in response, and I hear a shift through the phone.

“Are you touching yourself?” His voice cracks, and I immediately say, “No.” My fingers withdraw, but my sex pulses, aching for attention. The sheets suddenly feel scratchy, weighty, wanting. I spread my legs, and the material falls through the valley I’ve made. Cool cotton caresses my inner thighs, resting over a part of me which feels like it’s beating faster than my heart.

“Are you thinking of me touching you?” He swallows. “In my bed.”

God, yes. My fingers return to my thigh, curving over my prickly skin. Another shuffle whispers through the phone as if he’s removing something. A shirt. A sheet.

“Tell me where you are,” he demands, his voice deeper, richer.

“I’m in your bed.”

“Give me more details.”

“I’m in the center—”

“Dolores,” he drags out my name, and I’m forced to respond.

“Naked.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles. Was that a belt clanking in the background?

My fingers dip, stroking over my wet folds, which pulse after just one stroke. It won’t be enough, and I continue circling. Garrett’s breath increases in my ear. The silence ticks between us a beat.

“Tell me more,” he commands. “What are you doing?”

“I’m touching myself.” My eyes close as I admit the embarrassing truth, but the sultry sound of his voice, the commanding tone, and the hitch of his breath urge me onward. I can’t stop.

He moans into the phone. “How does it feel? Details.”

“Wet,” I tease. “Warm,” I purr. “So good.” I don’t recognize my voice. I’ve never sounded like this with anyone else. I’ve never done this with someone else.

“Fuck,” he groans again, and the hum forces me to rub harder, stroke faster. “Stunner, are you about to come on my sheets?”

“I…” My breath catches. I’m so close. “I think so,” I mutter, a little surprised with myself, surprised he’s listening to me do what I’m doing. So close.

“Do it,” he demands, and I let go, moaning incomprehensible things into the phone as my head tips, and my fingers delve. My release drags out, slow and sweet, and long overdue. I fall back to the pillow, eyes closed with exhaustion, and I hear Garrett grunt. As I settle down from my high, I giggle, feeling naughty. Did he just get off too?

“Are you misbehaving in Atlanta?” I admonish without a trace of disapproval in my voice. Did we just have phone sex? I slap my dirty hand on my head, catching a whiff of what I’ve done.

“So misbehaving. I think you need to punish me when I return.” He chuckles, deep and satiated in my ear, and I roll to my side, inhaling his pillowcase. Bayberry and woodsy. Garrett.

Oh God. I’ll never be able to face him.

“Hey, Dolores.”

“Yeah.” My voice remains dreamy, giddy even, as I swallow back my mortification.

“I wish I was a Wizard.” His voice lowers again, and my brows pinch.

“Why?” I wonder, tugging the Garrett-scented sheet over my shoulder and relaxing into the comfort of his bed.

“I’m thinking there’s no place like home right now.”

Home. I’m not sure I know where that is anymore, but his sentiment is very sweet.