Page 55 of The Back Forty
I didn’t think you’d want to.
I didn’t think we’d ever cross this line.
I settle on, "We were just talking about my panic attack."
And now you're between my legs, about to prove to me that the slow burn and the tease is better than jack hammering my pussy with my vibrator?
But he’s not looking at me anymore. Not my face, anyway. His hands slide up my legs possessively as he releases a slow, steady breath. He's not rushing, but there's no hesitancy behind his touch. And the way he’s squeezing my thighs is full of confidence like we've done this before.
He reaches my waist, his fingers curling in the waistband of my skirt.
“Lift,” he says using that voice he does when he isn't asking for permission.
I do, without thinking. He slides the fabric past my hips and down my legs along with my reality and my composure, leaving me in just my simple sweatshirt and a no-frills nude thong.
It’s nothing special. Just a thin, practical scrap of fabric in a shade of brown slightly lighter than my skin. Not sexy. Not meant to be seen.Definitelynotmeant to impress my boss who I've crushed on for a year. But the way Lawson is looking at me like I’m the most tempting thing he’s ever touched, that makes my skin feel like fire and boosts my confidence.
His fingers skim the inside of my knees, pausing just long enough to let me process the weight of this shift. Somehow, we got from guarded silence and playful banter to this…longing. He clears his throat like a warning.
“Tell me if you want me to stop at any time.”
But he’s not looking at my eyes. He’s looking between my legs like a starving man who’s just found his last meal. And God help me, the heat in his gaze does things to my insides that I can’t even begin to name.
I nod my head. Don’t stop.Please don’t stop.
His touch moves higher, slow and reverent, trailing fire over my exposed body. His hands squeeze, press, caress until they settle on my thighs again and then he lets out a deep groan. Low and guttural.
And it’smehe’s groaning over. I'm the reason he's making these noises that I've only ever heard in audiobooks or movies.
“Still don’t think the buildup’s better?” he says with so much heat in his voice as he holds my gaze now. "Because this longing to touch you, the torture to not rip off your remaining clothes will make the payoff much better for me when I finally get a taste of you."
I bite my lower lip, too turned on to have a funny comeback to that. “No. It's definitely not better.”I'm lying and he knows it.
He smirks and it only makes him that much more handsome.
"We'll see if you still feel that way in a few minutes."
His fingers inch higher, brushing right where my thigh meets the heat of my center. His thumbs skim over the soft silk of my underwear, and I swear the world stutters on its axis.
Everything sharpens. My skin, my heartbeat, my need for him. This is Lawson.My boss.The man I’ve kept firmly on the other side of a professional, platonic line. Except now he’s between my legs, looking at me like I’m his, like he’s ready to undo every boundary we’ve ever built without acknowledging it to each other.
Has he had those thoughts too? The ones where he's told himself to never look at me as something more than untouchable? I don't know, but I refuse to tell him to stop. I refuse to think about the lines that we're blowing past that we shouldn't be.
Will I regret this tomorrow morning? Am I repeating patterns that I swore I’d never fall into again? Maybe.
Okay, yes. But can I stop it? No. Not even a little bit. Because IwantLawson. I want him to ruin me slowly. To tease and stretch out every drop of pleasure until I’m wrecked and breathless and still begging for more. I want to come on something other than my silicone vibrator like I have been every Tuesday night for the past year. And I want him to prove me wrong. Fuck, I want him to prove me so,sowrong.
His fingers brush over my soaked slit again and I hiss, hips jolting forward.
“Are you just gonna tease me forever?” I bite out.
He chuckles deeply and the sound vibrates right through my core. “Maybe. You said the buildup wasn’t worth it. I'm trying to make a point here.”
“Yeah, well, so far this is just frustrating and not at all worth it,” I snap. “By now, my vibrator would’ve already had me coming once and halfway to a second orgasm. Efficient. Reliable. No," I wave my hands up and down his face, "smoldering stares with sexy, teasing smiles. I'd put it right where I want it and end this misery.” I shift my hips a little, trying to show him where I want him to touch me.
He growls at that, low and dangerous, and I swear I feel it in my spine. His hands find the band of my thong, and there’s no more hesitation. He drags it down over my hips, past my thighs, all the way to my ankles, leaving me completely bare.
I’m naked on his couch, in his house with legs spread open like an invitation because I can’t close them with his massive chest wedged between them. And he’s kneeling there like he’s worshiping me. Like he’s starving for me.
