Page 36 of Wanting Wentworth

I immediately think of the growing list of things I’ve added to my notebook over the past several days—every single one of them having to do with him—and the heat in my cheeks flares to the point of pain. “I can’t...” I shake my head while I let out a shaky breath. “You’ll laugh at me and I...” Still shaking my head, I look away. “I don’t want you to laugh at me.” The tail of it studders away on a gasp when I feel him move over me, bending and lowering himself closer, a second before I feel his mouth skim across the curve of my jaw, on its way to my ear.

“I won’t laugh.” He whispers it, while I try to remember how to breathe. “I swear to fucking Christ, I won’t laugh—just tell me.” His lips skim against the shell of my ear, sending shivers down my spine with every word. “It’s okay, Sunshine... you can say it out loud. I’ll give it to you—whatever it is. Whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.”

TWENTY

Wentworth

Of all the things I should be doing right now, standing over a chick I barely know with a hard-on the size of a sledgehammer at 3AM is definitely not one of them. I should be behaving the way I promised Damien I would when it comes to his boss’s daughter. I should be keeping my head down and my nose clean the way Conner needs me to so he can extricate me from the pile of shit I left behind in LA.

I should be doing a lot of things besides what I’m actually doing—but should be went out the window the second she walked in. Should be turned into not gonna happen the second she looked up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes of hers and as soon as I felt her soft, uneven breath against my bare chest not gonna happen turned into no fucking way.

Nothing else matters.

Not right now.

Maybe not ever again.

“I won’t laugh,” I whisper, my heart pounding so hard and loud I can feel the echoes of it against my eardrums. “It’s okay, Sunshine... you can say it out loud. I’ll give it to you—whatever it is. Whatever you want. All you have to do is ask.” I mean it. Whatever she wants. Whatever she asks for. Right now, if she asked me to fill my pockets with rocks and jump into the lake, I’d do it.

We stand here for a few seconds, my mouth hovering above her ear, our bodies so close, I can feel the brush of her tight, swollen nipples against my torso with every soft, shallow breath she takes. Every time I feel them against my bare skin, my hard cock twitches against her belly. There’s no way she doesn’t feel it. Doesn’t know what being this close to her is doing to me.

She’s not answering me.

Shit.

I’m suddenly sure that despite her body’s obvious response to mine, I’ve done exactly what Damien was afraid I’d do. Stepped over some invisible boundary meant to protect someone like her from something like me. Hands pressed hard into the counter on either side of her, I feel my arms tense, readying themselves to push away from her while a fumbling apology bubbles against the back of my throat like acid.

“I want to touch you.”

As soon as she says it, I force myself to shift back, away from her just enough so I can see her face. Her gaze is aimed up at me, eyes popped wide like she had no intention of saying it out loud. Like it’s a secret she intended to take to her grave.

“Touch me?” The voice that says it comes out of my mouth but it’s so ragged and rough I don’t recognize it.

She nods before she clarifies. “Your tattoos... I want to know what they feel like.” Her gaze drifts away from mine to follow the lines of script inked into the side of my neck. “If they feel as beautiful as they look... is that okay?”

Somehow, I resist the urge to grab her by her wrists so I can drag her hands to my chest because suddenly, having her hands on me is all I can think about. The only thing that’ll keep me sane.

Rein it in, moron.

Don’t fuck this up.

Pressing my palms into the kitchen island I have her trapped against, I hook my thumbs around the edge of it, holding on for dear life. “Yeah...” I say in that rough and ragged tone that doesn’t belong to me. “It’s okay.”

Lush lower lip caught between her teeth, brow slightly furrowed, she hesitates like she’s still unsure. Like even though I gave her permission, touching me is still wrong somehow.

I suppose for someone like her, it is.

“Sun—”

That’s as far as I get before I feel her palms press themselves against the ink tattooed into my ribcage and begin to slide up the length of my torso and that’s all it takes. My cock immediately goes apeshit, jerking and twitching against her belly like it’s trying to fight its way out of my pants. “Shit.” I push the curse through clenched teeth, squeezing my eyes shut when I feel the tips of her fingers brush against the ink surrounding one of my nipples. The ring I have pierced through it. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about. I’m the one who—” Her hands go still, pressed against my pecks. Opening my eyes, I find her looking up at me. “This is weird, right?” Her brow puckers and the pressure of her hands shifts, telling me she’s about to pull away.

“Believe it or not—not the weirdest thing I’ve ever let a woman do to me.” Fingers gripped around the edge of the counter so hard I can feel my bones start to bend under the pressure, I shake my head on a rusty laugh. That’s how good it feels, so good that I’m practically shaking with the effort it’s taking to keep my hands and mouth off of her. “This doesn’t even make the top ten.”

“I’m not sure I believe you.” Her hands start to move again and it’s all I can do to keep from swallowing my own tongue. “I think you’re going to go home and tell all your friends about the weird girl you met in Montana who…” Her breath tickles against my chest like she’s leaning into it. Like feeling my tattoos isn’t good enough. Like maybe she wants to taste them. My dick gives another hard, spastic jerk against her belly at the thought of her mouth on me.

Fuuuck.

---