Page 62 of That Conflicted Feeling
Herbody rocks with a chuckle.
Ibrush my mouth across her temple, in front of her ear, and down to her jaw.Iwant to taste her, inhale her, consume her in every way.Myhand slides down from her knee, over her smooth calf, and to her ankle, andIfight the raging desire to move it in the exact opposite direction.
Sherests her head against mine, her breath deepening.
AsIslowly pull back, slipping my cheek across hers,Icatch a glimpse of her cleavage pulsating with her heartbeat.
Shewants this too.Rationally, she knows it’s wrong, just likeIdo.Notonly because we’re opponents, but becauseIlive in the city.AndIwork like my life depends on it.IfImake time for anyone, it’s my parents.Neverfor relationships.
ButI’venever met anyone likePolly.
Shemoves her hand to my leg but doesn’t look up, all her attention trained on her fingers as they make gentle, hot circles on my thigh.
Andthat’s it.
Thetension is too much to bear.
Icrack.
Ilift her face and capture her mouth.Herlips grab at mine as mine grab at hers, and those fingers sink into my thigh, lighting a fire in my boxers.
“Sucha terrible idea,” she says, coming up for a breath.
“Idon’t care.”
Ibury my tongue in her mouth, our tastebuds searching for each other.
Ifinally allow my hand to go where it’s wanted to go since the momentIsaw her walking across the square in this dress.
Herinner thigh is soft and warm.
Butshe pulls back, breathless.
I’vegone too far.
Offendedher.
Pushedher too soon.
Christ,I’ma clumsy fucking idiot.
“Wecan’t make out on the grass outside a shed.”Andoh, thank fuck, she smiles. “Anyonecould walk around here and see us,” she whispers.
Herchest rises and falls in time with her deep breaths.AndallIcan think is how badlyIwant to press my mouth to those breasts.
Wecan’t walk away from this now.Iwant her.Shewants me.Ilook around—there has to be a way.
“Couldwe make outinsidethe shed?”Ijerk my head toward the door a few feet from where we’re sitting.
“Oh, myGod.”Shetakes my face in her hands and lets out a burst of the laughter that gets me every time. “Youare terrible.”
“Comeon.”Istand up, offer her a hand, and adjust my vertical cock to a less uncomfortable position with the other.Shelets me pull her to her feet.
“Oh, hang on,” she says, turning back for the wreath and wine.
“Prettysure the world wouldn’t end if we forgot either of those.”
“Butif anyone sees them, they might come looking for us.”Shegathers them up, like a master criminal hiding the evidence.
