Page 97 of A Pizza My Heart

Ineedthis right now. The pressure of his touch…the gentle brush of the pantyhose…it’s bliss.

He rubs circles over my most sensitive spot, his thumb brushing against my ass cheeks with every movement. I press back, loving the unexpected zing of pleasure coming from the contact.

Somehow knowing just what I want, he adds more pressure, his thumb pushing between my cheeks until he finds that spot no one else has ever touched before.

It’s enough to finally send me over the edge.

My legs begin to quake, my breaths cease to exist. I fall apart on his fingers.

He lets out another harsh breath, his forehead pressed against my temple. I can feel his hard length pressing against me still.

“Fuck me. You’re trying to kill me. I know it.”

He slowly drags his fingers away from my body and I want to cry out, want to beg him to keep touching me forever.

But I don’t. I can’t.

I couldn’t talk right now if I tried, my throat too dry.

“You’re fucking perfect, Wren. Every part of you is perfect.”

I open my mouth to argue, but he doesn’t let me, crushing his mouth to mine in a searing kiss.

“Don’t argue with me. I’m not in the mood to argue.”

“W-What are you in the mood for?”

“You.” He presses into me again before taking a miniscule step back. “But I’m not going to fuck you for the first time in a club. Instead, I’m going to take you back out on that dance floor and swing you around and buy you drinks until you forget all about the crummy day you’ve had. Then I’ll take you home and drop you off like the fucking gentleman I am because I won’t take advantage of a drunk you.”

“But you are going to fuck me?”

His grip on my blonde locks tightens for just a moment, like he’s warring with himself to let me go.

He does, his fingers sliding down my back, gliding across my body then lifting just before he hits my ass.

“Yes. Not until you’re ready though. Not until you’re sure you want this the way I want it. Because once I get a taste of you, that’s it for me. Until then, I’ll wait. You’ll give in soon enough.”

“How can you be so certain?”

Without warning, he spins me toward him, piercing me with his intense stare. He lifts my hand to his chest, fanning my fingers out over his heart.

“Because you and I, Wren—we’re bound to happen. Whether you want it or not, you have a piece of my heart, and I don’t want it back.”

* * *

“You’re tellingme he basically finger-fucked youandput it in your butt in the middle of The Lounge and you haven’t married his ass yet?” She points toward the door. “Get out.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own shop?”

“Yes! Because you’re clearly insane.”

I heave a sigh, gathering the foil strips from my last color and walking them to the trash.

It’s been almost seventy-two hours since I’ve seen or heard from Foster. Not that I’m counting or anything.

He did exactly what he promised he’d do. We danced. We drank. We got a ride home. He walked me to my front door, kissed me good night, and sent me on my way.

And that was that.

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