Page 84 of Make Her Mine

“What exactly did I say?” she asks, her voice softer.

“There were lots of pleases. My name. How you totally trusted me. How you were gonna die if you didn’t get my hands on you.”

She narrows her eyes. “I didn’t say that part.”

I chuckle. “Okay, some of that might’ve just been how I heard it. There were a couple of pleases, and you said it was very important. And that I shouldn’t be a prude and I should just do it.”

She seems to think that over. Then decides that does sound like her. Which it does. That was exactly what she told me.

“Okay, what was I asking you to do?” she says.

“What do you think you were asking me to do?” I ask her as her gaze goes to my mouth again.

“No. No fair,” she says. “Just tell me.”

I lean in. “Actually, I don’t think so. I would like very much to know what you think you might be willing to beg me for.”

I see her breath hitch and make a note of that. Her gaze is on my mouth again and now not moving. “I suppose it’s possible, that I asked you to...”

“To?” I ask, my voice dropping. “Because before you go on, or worry about going on, you should know that I would probably do anything you asked me to do. Especially anything you begged me for in bed.”

Now the breath hitch is more of a gasp. Her eyes bounce up to meet mine. “Did I ask you for sex? Or to touch me…”

Her saying sex already has me tensing, but I have to hear how she’s going to finish that sentence. I give her a half grin. “Touch you where, Harlow?”

Her voice drops to a whisper, and she leans closer. “Just tell me if I asked you to have sex with me or to…finger me.”

Shock, lust, and gratification shoot through me. Gratification at the fact that she said those words, gratification at the fact that she thought she might possibly, in any world, in any circumstance, ask me for that.

I keep my eyes on her and say, “Unfortunately no.”

She sighs with relief. “Okay.” Then she narrows her eyes. “Unfortunately?”

“No, you’re right, it’s fortunate because if you had asked me for that, and I wouldn’t have been able to—which I wouldn’t have, since you were kind of out of it—that might’ve killed me.”

Now her cheeks get even pinker, but I think it’s from desire, not embarrassment.

“So what did I ask for?”

I lean in. And take a breath. “You smell so fucking good.”

“Jefferson.”

I grin. “Right.” I whisper, “To put lotion on your feet and legs.”

She pauses. She stares at me. Then she closes her eyes and groans.

“I did it too,” I tell her. “You were very pouty, so I had to.”

She leans over and runs her hand down her calf. “Wow.”

I chuckle. “The begging started with, ‘I really need lotion on my feet and legs before I sleep’. I said it would be fine to skip just one night. And then I got, ‘pleeease, Jefferson.’ I tried to hand you the bottle but you just pushed it away and said, ‘You do it.’ I finally did, but only to your knees. Then the begging got worse. Because you had to have lotion, ‘all the way up to my panties,’ I say, making my voice high, mimicking hers terribly. I grin. “That was exactly what you told me. All the way up to your panties. Both sides.”

She has her hands covering her face, but she’s laughing.

“Oh my God. I’m so sorry. “

I chuckle, but I reach up and tug her hands away from her face. “You were asleep. And trust me,” I tell her. “As pervy as it sounds, I enjoyed it.”

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