Page 75 of Infinite as They Come
Slowly, that hand made its way under my dress, along the top of my thigh, his thumb rubbing the softest of circles against my skin. It would have been easy enough to shove his hand off me, but he had me fidgeting that tiny bit in my seat, and all I could think about was how I wanted more of him and his touch. I always did—even when we were fighting. God,especiallywhen we were fighting.
“I always use my manners,” I finally said, resisting the urge to grab his hand and push it further up my thigh.
“Not with me.”
“Why do you have such an attitude today?” I asked. “You seemed perfectly fine twenty minutes ago.”
He huffed. “Could say the same about you.”
“Well, you keep…” Pressing my lips together, I kept that to myself. That he had been taking off, disappearing, being all secretive.
“Keep what?”
“Nothing.”
“Maybe it’s the town, huh?” he asked. “You didn’t like it. Too small, not enough country clubs and fancy stores that rip you off. Guess you’re mad about that.”
My eyes rolled. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Maybe you miss all those skyscrapers back in New York. Or that big ass house in Highland Park. Hm? Is that what you prefer?”
“You know I…” My whole body started to heat up as his hand travelled up my thigh some more. Just an inch, his fingertips featherlight as he touched me, but it had me letting out the most pathetic sounding mewl. It was a sound Sawyer picked up on in an instant.
“What was that?” he asked.
“What was what?”
“You’re making all those pretty noises. Do you need something?”
“No,” I lied.
“You only make those noises when you need something.”
“No, I don’t.”
“When you need to be fucked.”
And God, I let out another stupid little whine, my hands grabbing at his on instinct. I could have shoved him away, could have told him to leave me alone, but there was something in his voice drawing me to him. All deep, rough words and long fingers that were brushing up against me just right.
“Do you need to be fucked, princess?” he asked, voice low.
Too low. Too gravelly. That hand too close, fingers skirting along the edge of my panties for the quickest of seconds.
“Sawyer,” I finally managed to say, squirming in my seat.
“Yeah?”
“Stop teasing,” I said with gritted teeth.
“What do you mean?”
“You know what I mean.”
He hummed, eyes still on the road. One hand casually on the wheel, the other on the verge of being buried between my legs. “Not sure I know what you’re talking about, Holly,” he said, sliding his hand up further. More and more. Not stopping until he let a finger, just one, trace the faintest of lines against me.
I gasped while he hissed, that long, skilled finger pressing up against me some more. Firmer, harder, giving me just enough pressure, right there against my covered up clit.
“You may as well not wear any fucking panties if they’re like this,” he muttered. “You always got these flimsy little things on, don’t you? Probably cost a hundred fucking bucks and they barely cover you up.”
