Page 104 of Into These Eyes
Her sharp intake of breath draws my eyes up to hers, and defiance stares back.
“So do it,” she breathes.
Jesus.
Already feeling the effects of being this close to her, my dick swells. Do I want to put my hands on her?Fuck yes.Is it risky?Also, fuck yes.If I’m misinterpreting what she wants, I’ll be out the door before my dick deflates.
But as I gaze into her eyes, I see it there.
She’s daring me.
There’s no misunderstanding. She’s giving me permission to touch her. What sort of man would I be if I didn’t accept her challenge?
I sweep my eyes down her body and back up again. I have a pretty good idea where that phone is. A pretty good idea of which area to avoid if I don’t want to find it too quickly.
Leaving one hand braced against the wall, I press my fingertips to the curve of her waist. When she doesn’t flinch or tense, I flatten my palm there, enjoying the heat through the soft material.
Heart galloping, I meet her eyes again, confident they’ll tell me everything I need to know. And they do. That heat I saw last night is right there.
Shewantsthis.
I have to stay in control, deny every instinct demanding I slam my body against hers and show her how much I wanther.
Restraining myself, I slowly rub my thumb over the tight fabric. She blinks up at me, waiting, reminding me I’m supposed to be searching for her phone. I can’t keep her in suspense.
As I slide my hand from her waist to the small of her back, my knuckles connect with the wall. She wastes no time tilting herhips forward, making room for me, giving me permission to keep going.
I touch the cool metal of her zipper and follow it downward until I meet the swell of her backside. Dipping a little lower, I skate my palm over her right cheek where a pocket might be positioned. I know damn well this dress doesn’t have any. It’s so damn tight, even if it did have pockets, nothing but a credit card would fit inside.
Somehow, I resist the urge to squeeze that firm, round, delectable arse. I’m not here to grope her like a fucking pervert. I respect her too much for that. She might want me to touch her, but it’s up to mehowI do that. And I want to make her feel good. I want to leave her wanting more.
Moving on, I graze my palm down the back of her thigh. When my fingers reach the hem of her dress and touch bare skin, she shivers. I pause, holding the intense eye contact, waiting for her to give me any indication I should stop. After all, I’m not touching her where she can hide a phone.
Apart from that shiver and the rapid rise and fall of her chest, she doesn’t move.
With a featherlight caress, I leisurely trace her bare skin just beneath her hem. By the time I reach the front of her thigh, goosebumps rise beneath my fingertips. Her pupils dilate, her eyes widen, and her lips part.
Fuck. There’s no denying I’m having the same effect on her as she’s having on me. My cock’s so damn hard, I know it’s weeping with excitement. And I’m pretty confident that if I touched her panties right now, they’d be more than just damp.
Jesus. It’d be so easy to slip my fingers between her warm thighs and find out.
But she needs to get to work, not be fucked against the wall by a feral animal who’ll probably last two whole seconds. If I ever get the privilege of sinking into her body, the last thing I want todo is remind her of her first and only experience. I want to show her how good it can be. Forher. Unlike her first time, I want her desperate to repeat it.
The fact that she’s allowing me to touch her like this has my stomach fluttering. This isn’t just about how good she feels beneath my hand, it’s also about how good she feels inside my heart.
Trembling with the force of restraining myself, I slide my palm up to her hip, pretending to search for another non-existent pocket.
Her fast, shallow breaths match mine, and when I lick my lips, her eyes dart to my mouth and linger there.
Christ, she wants me to kiss her as much as I want to.
But that’s not what I’m supposed to be doing. The reason I have her up against the wall in the first place manages to sweep past my need. I’m trying to take care of her, not take advantage of her.
Shit. I need to get a grip.
Which apparently means sliding my hand over her ribs until my thumb brushes the underside of her breast. Her eyes snap back to mine, wide and bright, her pupils almost completely swallowing that vibrant green I know so well. She’s totally alive right now, completely immersed in the moment.
I lock onto the rapid pulse fluttering at the base of her throat, and a powerful urge to cover it with my mouth, to feel that life force flowing through her with the tip of my tongue, takes over.
