Page 78 of Lemon Crush

“Yes, sir, Motor Daddy.” She saluted and I ground my teeth together at another unexpected wave of really fucking inappropriate arousal.

I closed the albums, turned off the music and put the bottle back in the pantry, setting it high enough that she’d have to find a step stool to get to it tonight. By the time I was through, the popcorn was done, the movie was starting and I’d gotten myself under control.

This was what she needed right now. A friend. I could be that for her.

Twenty minutes in, I was ready to admit defeat, in more ways than one.

What was going on with the bounty hunter, anyway? Was he a prince? Was he dying? Was he really that bad at his job? Because so far, he’d gotten his ass beat five times and hadn’t caught a single clue.

Is the distraction making you feel better?

No, it was not.

The problem wasn’t really the movie—that actually had a cult classic feel and some decent CGI. But I couldn’t pay attention to the plot, or the lack of one, with my dick working so hard to get my attention.

August was falling asleep against me. Her feet were curled up behind her, full breasts pressed into my side and one hand open on my stomach, too close to my erection for comfort.

I needed to leave.

The old me would have. Good old reliable Wade would have carried her to her bed, tucked her in and left another bottle of water and an aspirin within arm’s reach before locking the door behind him.

Instead, I was hard as a rock and fighting my desire to pull her closer, torturing myself by reliving the sexual adventures we’d had together over the last week. Along with more meetings like the one we had in my office, I’d gone to an adult store for the first time in my life and purchased a pink vibrator, thinking she might like the experience.

I’d been stupidly surprised that she already had one. It was a different kind—mine was meant for insertion, while hers was designed to basically suck on her clit—but when I made some noise about returning it, she’d clutched it to her chest. “No takebacks! I need this since you’re playing hard to get.”

I’d had no idea how much I would enjoy watching her with both of them, or how hard it would be to leave her with them for the cold comfort of a shower and my hand.

Phone sex was another first for me. I’d called to say goodnight after she’d spent one evening writing, and she was already in bed. She’d jokingly asked what I was wearing, and before I knew it, I was describing all the things I wanted to do to her body while we both got ourselves off. I never thought I’d be intothat, but the sound of her cries in my ear that night was something I’d remember on my deathbed.

We’d avoided each other for years, but she was making up for it now. Every time I reached for her, she was reaching right back. Turning me on. Making me laugh. Making me think. Making me want to go back in time and give myself a beatdown for all the time I’d wasted staying away from her.

Before the dinner and tequila, I’d thought tonight would be the night. I knew things had changed, but her delectable body was wrapped around me like she belonged there, and it was getting harder to remember she was tired, tipsy and understandably sad. In that frame of mind, I’d be a convenient distraction tonight and a regret in the morning. We both deserved better than that.

My erection had its own thoughts about delaying things yet again, and I shifted to give myself some breathing room, causing her to stir.

“Don’t go,” she murmured.

I closed my eyes and inhaled slowly at the request. “You need to get to bed, Gus.”

“Come with me.”

I swore silently. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“I’m not ready to be alone yet.”

Hell. “I’ll stay until you fall asleep.”

She didn’t waste any time getting up, and I let her pull me to my feet, unwilling to tell her no despite my previous decision. I seized her shoulders and pointed her toward her bedroom, then took Merlin out for one last quick walk. After I’d turned off the television and the lights, I walked down the hall to join her.

Her bathroom door was closed.

I stood there uncertainly, taking in her unmade bed with its blue sheets and multicolored quilt and remembering the last time we’d spent the night together. It didn’t matter that this bed hadenough room for both of us—sleeping beside her without touching her the way I needed to would still be torture.

Desperate for a distraction, I studied the fairy lights on the wall above her headboard, and the other wall, where a frame filled with snapshots dangled from what looked like fishing line. Pictures of mountains and oceans and skylines I’d never seen in person.

Places she’d been that I hadn’t, or places she still wanted to go?

I let myself imagine how it would feel to get out of my comfort zone and leave this zip code for more than a weekend race in New Orleans or Chicago. There was no reason I couldn’t travel. Business was good enough that the garage could survive me disappearing for a few weeks here or there. I’d always imagined doing it, but I’d never made it happen.

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