Page 44 of Unguarded

Her smile is contagious. My lips curve up as I lean back against the couch.

“Because if it had four, it would be a chicken sedan!” She covers her mouth, trying to hold back her laughter while watching my reaction. She sets her wine down to avoid spilling it.

A laugh comes rolling out of me. I lean forward, shaking my head as I look over at her. “That’s a good one. I’m impressed. Had no idea you were a comedian.”

She taps her foot against my thigh, winking at me. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me yet.”

I put my glass on the table, reaching for her foot. My hand wraps all the way around her ankle. “Oh, yeah? Like how ticklish you are? I don’t know that yet.”

Something has come over me. Her laughter has put a crack in the wall I carefully built between us.

Her eyes grow bigger. “No! Please don’t. I’ll tell you right now, I’mso notticklish.”

A wicked grin spreads across my face. “Yeah? I’m gonna need to test it out. Sorry.” I lightly tickle the bottom of her foot—from the middle up to her cute little toes.

She collapses on the couch, pulling against me as hard as she can and yelping with laughter. She’s a little stronger than she looks, but she’s no match for me. I don’t give in at all, mercilessly tickling her foot until she starts kicking my arm and shoulder with the other foot.

“That doesn’t even hurt. You’ll have to do better if you want me to stop.”

She groans through her laughter, reaching her foot upcloser to my face and nearly kicking me in the jaw. I stop tickling her and wrap my hand around the other ankle, pushing them both down on the couch so that I can use my knee to press against her thighs, pinning her to the sofa. I grab both her arms, using one hand to easily pin them up over her head on the armrest.

“Oh no, you’re in trouble now, Blue.”

She’s panting, her chest rising and falling as she tries to wiggle free from underneath my iron hold. “I’m—I was lying. It was just my feet. The rest of me has … nerve damage.”

I trail my fingers down her side. “Is that so? You’re not at all ticklish here?”

I pinch her side gently, and she bucks to the side with a gasp.

“Nope. Not there.”

“And what about here?” I move up to her underarm, tickling her through the sweatshirt.

She starts laughing again, trying to escape me, but unable to do anything besides wiggle and jerk against me. Her potent scent of sandalwood and vanilla fills my nostrils, making my head swim. One of her legs slips free from under my knee during my brief distraction, and she wraps it around my leg and pulls me off her other one. She wraps both of them around my waist and pulls herself up.

Oh fuck. Now we’ve gone too far. What the fuck? What. The. Fuck.

We’re both grunting and panting now, writhing against each other and trying to gain the upper hand. I desperately try to get her legs off of me, but she’s locked her anklesaround my hips. I stop with the underarms and move back down to her abdomen to hopefully make her loosen her grip around me so that she can’t feel the hard-on that’s slowly growing in my jeans. I’m desperate to make her stop without her realizing why I need her to let go of my hips.

“I’m not giving up!” she screeches.

My fingers are digging into her waist as I try to weaken her, sweat beginning to gather on my lower back. Her shirt rides up then, causing my hands to make contact with her bare skin. I freeze, my fingers stopping to grip her waist firmly, my thumb brushing around the impossibly soft skin of her stomach. My head swims. I’m now fully hard, my dick painfully pressed against my zipper. I wouldn’t be surprised if pre-cum was seeping out of it.

Her laughter fades as realization sets in that this playful interaction has taken a nosedive into the gutter—a dirty one. Her ocean eyes scan my face with clear lust, no doubt seeing the way I’m looking at her, like my thoughts are imagining us doing this without our clothes on. I can’t hide it. I want this woman writhing underneath me in a much different way than our professional relationship would allow.

I release her wrists, attempting to push myself up off her and regain the ability to think clearly, desperately stacking bricks back up over the crumbled remains of the wall between us.

Technically, nothing happened. I was trying to be relaxed, to be friends. I’m a professional. I’ve never fucked up like this before.

As soon as she’s free, she wraps both her hands around my neck, pulling me back down to her. My dog tags slip fromunderneath my shirt and dangle between us, brushing the top of her breasts. Our panting breaths mingle for a few agonizing seconds as I search her gaze, finding pure need and desire. I’m frozen in place, unable to bridge the professional gap between us, but also incapable of regaining self-control and putting distance between us. In the next moment, she pulls me down the last remaining inches.

Her lips capture mine in a kiss, eyes wide open the whole time.

I freeze for all of three agonizing moments before my control snaps. My body slams hers down to the sofa. I use one hand to brace myself above her, the other curling around her delicate neck. My fingers thread through the base of her hairline, gripping it tightly.

“That was a mistake,” I breathe into her mouth before I nip at her bottom lip with my teeth.

She whimpers against me, her legs pulling me closer to her. My hard-on is between her legs now, my desire for her as obvious as it can get. My lips press against hers, and as I dive my tongue into her mouth, I taste the sweet rosé on hers.

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