Page 3 of Can't Text This

“Huh?”

“You have abs—I’d guess eight.”

He hisses when my hands collide with his bare skin, and I love the way it sounds. It’s like he can’t get enough of our contact either.

I run my fingers over his middle.

“One…two…”

His chest begins to move rapidly.

“Three…four…”

He reaches out and stills my movements, locking eyes with me. There are so many shadows between us I almost can’t see him.

And it’s making this encounter all the more enticing.

“Six. It’s six, Monty.”

I frown. “You ruined the surprise.”

He crushes his lips to mine and I gasp at the contact. The movement is so rushed that I slide forward on the counter, my butt now barely hanging on to the edge. I wrap my legs around his waist for more support, and right behind me, following him into the bathroom earlier, it’s the smartest move I’ve made all night.

His erection brushes againstallthe right spots, and it feels just like the python he called it.

“Fuuuuuck.”

I’ve heard many curse words in my life. I’m not against cursing it’s just never sounded right coming out of my mouth, so it’s not something I do.

But that word leaving his lips? That didn’t sound like any curse I’ve ever heard. It sounded like a prayer.

And I’m praying right along with him.

His hands slide up my bare legs and under the knee-length skirt I’m wearing. I don’t stop him when he reaches my thighs, or when he reaches the edge of my panties.

I’m too lost to acknowledge that I shouldn’t be doing this with a stranger, too lost to care when he runs a finger along the band lining my thigh, too gone when his knuckles graze my swollen lips.

He buries his face in my neck as he fingers the hem over and over again. I want to combust every time he brushes against me. He’s unsure if he should press forward or not.

I’m not.

“You can touch me, Robbie.”

Another prayer and one of his fingers dives into my underwear, seeking out my center.

“You’re so wet,” he whispers before taking my mouth with his again.

My body heats at his words—or at his kiss. I can’t tell which, but I know I’m not used to hearing words like that.

He adds another finger and I lose all ability to move. He glides his fingers in and out of me, and I gasp in shock when his thumb presses against my clit.

What the…

“Do that again.”

He lets out another throaty laugh at my instruction and obeys, circling his thumb and teasing the bundle of nerves with just the right amount of pressure.

“Again.”

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