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“Um…”
I don’t want to sound unsexy and say that I just liked the dress, especially with his hands grazing up my hips to the sides of my waist.
“Did you wear it to make Ethan jealous?” His voice takes on a judgmental edge that stiffens my spine.
“No!”
Ethan doesn’t care what I wear. He doesn’t want me.
“Then answer my question, Amelia. Did you wear this dress to seduce me?”
His hands keep going up, lifting my skirt so high that I feel the air on my sex.
“I… I just wanted to look good.”
His hands reach the lower edge of my bra.
“For whom?”
I shake my head.
“You messaged me last night. Are you saying this morning you wanted to look good for no reason? No one in mind?”
My face warms. Damn him!
He’s right.
He invited me to the game and then I decided I wanted to look good. I didn’t even do it on purpose. But he’s the reason I wore the dress.
His hands move to my back, and in one swift motion my bra goes loose.
“So?”
His fingers tickle the undersides of my breasts, and just stay there, barely grazing, driving me wild with the need to be touched. My nipples are so hard, they’re painful.
“Yes,” I whimper. “I wore it for you.”
He lets out a contented grunt. And his hands finally move up to cradle my breasts.
His thumbs flick over my pebbled nipples, and I moan, dropping my head back against his shoulder.
“Now who’s touching you, Amelia? Say my name.”
He pushes my breasts together and kneads them like dough.
“Blake,” I whisper.
His grip tightens, and he rolls my nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
Hot, liquid heat pools at my core.
“Yes, Blake, please.”
He rolls and pulls, and the emptiness inside me grows to the point where it can no longer be ignored.
“Please!”
“Tell me what you want, Amelia. Tell me what you need.”
