Page 58 of On the Line

I glance back up at him in the mirror, and our eyes lock again. I’m not sure what it means that neither of us looks away. And then he’s crossing the room in four quick steps and stooping down to pick up my bra off the floor.

“Do you need help with this?” he asks, looking up at me through his dark lashes.

The words catch in my throat, which is so tight with need and suppressed emotion that I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to talk again.

His fingers make quick work of untangling the straps, and then he straightens up behind me. He’s close enough that I can feel the heat radiating from his body, and since he’s a full head taller than me, our faces reflect back in the mirror one above the other—eyes still locked on each other.

He dips his head near my ear. His voice is soft and his breath is hot when he says, “I can go back in that bathroom and leave you alone. Or I can help you take the rest of your clothes off. Your call.”

My abdominal muscles contract and my hips tilt forward involuntarily as my entire core clenches. I can feel how damp my underwear is already. I clench those muscles together too, feeling an aching emptiness that I know he’s willing to fill.

“Jameson,” I whisper. “This is such a bad idea.”

“On the contrary,” he says, his head still dipped down to mine. “It’s a brilliant idea.”

He takes his hand and traces the curve of my neck, his palm grazing my skin, trailed by the pads of his fingers as they skim my skin and light my nerves on fire. Then his fingertips graze my collarbone as he slides his palm along my shoulder until he cups my upper arm in his hand.

Watching him in the mirror as he runs his fingers along my skin might be the most erotic thing that’s ever happened to me. It’s definitely better than any of the sex I’ve had, which says a lot—either about my attraction to him or about my lackluster past.

He reaches out to run his fingers along the back of my hand where I’m frozen, holding my own breasts. I’m suddenly aware of how hard my nipples are against my palms. I shift my hands slightly and the sensation that ricochets through me from that friction against my taut nipples has me sagging back against him—the hard planes of his chest cradling my shoulder blades.

He traces his lips along my hairline, past my ear, to my jaw. There, he opens his lips enough that he’s trailing light kisses along my jawline, then down the side of my neck. A low moan escapes the back of my throat before I can stop it.

“You touching yourself like that is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.” The words are mumbled against my skin, and as I watch him in the mirror, he glances up at me.

“I’m covering myself,” I whisper, trying to keep my voice steady. “Not touching myself.”

“If that’s true, tell me to leave,” he says doubtfully, and his eyes flick back to my neck where he runs his tongue along the length of it before capturing my earlobe between his teeth. His erection is pressing into my lower back, and I find myself involuntarily pushing back into him. “Or tell me to stay. You choose.”

My core clenches with a contraction that shakes my whole body, and I don’t even have to think about this choice. “Stay.”

“Do it again.” His voice is rough and demanding.

“Do what again?” I ask, my voice unsteady and thick with longing.

“Rub your hands over your nipples.” His voice is so low it strums a chord deep inside me, filling me with a longing greater than any I’ve ever felt.

I’m not sure where the boldness comes from, but I slide my hands down so I’m cupping my breasts from the underside, then I slide my thumbs across my nipples. I tilt my hips back into him with a groan, frustrated that the height difference means I can’t run my ass along his length that I feel pressing into my lower back.

“Again.” He groans as he locks eyes with me in the mirror. I do as he says, and his fingers come to my hips, where they grip me possessively. “Again.”

I run my thumbs over my nipples again, and he practically growls into my hair. Then he’s turning me around to face him and backing me into the wall, where he dips his head and presses his mouth to mine. His lips part and he invades my mouth unceremoniously, but it’s a welcome intrusion. I meet his enthusiasm with my own, enjoying the rough thrust of his tongue as it tangles with mine and the pressure of his lips as they push against mine. What I don’t enjoy is the distance between our bodies as he bends to kiss me, so I wrap my arms around his neck to pull him closer.

Without moving his mouth from mine, his hands glide from my hips over my ass and between my thighs. He lifts me up so I can wrap my legs around him.

Then his hips pin me to the wall as he thrusts against me, his hardness rubbing against my clit over and over, giving me the friction I need. He dips his head down to my breast, capturing my nipple between his lips where he circles it with his tongue.

“Yes,” I hiss into his ear as I press my hips forward to meet his thrusts. “Yes!”

He rewards my enthusiasm by sucking my nipple further into his mouth, and then a hard pull sends shock waves straight through my core, which is so wet at this point I think I’ve soaked through not only my underwear, but my leggings as well. He brings one of his hands to my other breast, where he tweaks my nipple between his fingers gently. My head rolls back against the wall as he continues his assault on multiple erogenous zones at once. I buck my hips into him wildly, running my clit along the hard length of him until I’m panting with a need so great I can’t see straight.

“I’m so close.” I hiss.

He lifts his lips off me and brings them to my ear. “I know.”

“Jameson, don’t stop. Please,” I beg, needing him to return his lips to my nipple.

Instead, a low grumble of a laugh rolls through him as he takes his hand off my other breast. “I have so many plans for your body, Lauren. And none of them involve clothes.” With one arm under my ass and the other wrapped around my back, he spins and walks us to the bed where he places one knee at the end and then lowers me onto the soft fabric of the duvet.

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