Page 45 of Falling Slowly
His fingers slid a little lower, touching the edge of my panties. “Why not? You do things for me all the time.” I heard the smile in his voice, but also thickness, like his throat was as sticky as mine.
“This is not some office errand, Charlie.”
“No. Because I don’t think you’ve ever enjoyed the errands you run for me like I’d enjoy this.”
He sounded out of breath, his voice thick with need, which relaxed me a little. “Come on, Bess. Let me help.”
He dragged his fingers along the edge of my panties, and I shivered from head to toe. When did I ever really enjoy myself? Could I let him do this for me? I wanted to touch him, to confirm he really was into this, that I wasn’t imagining things. But that’s when he shifted closer, and I felt his erection against my hip. A sudden, hard poke that awakened a whole new craving. I wanted him. I needed him. Charlie held still, waiting for my final answer.
I ran my hand down his chest. “So, this never happened?”
“I’m not even here.” He pulled back before I reached his crotch but his fingers traced a fiery trail down my stomach, slipping under my panties, reaching the wetness between my legs. He groaned. “Oh, my God, Bess.”
He touched me lightly, circling and teasing. But I was too far gone and bucked against his hand, desperate for friction. For a moment, he held back, then matched his movement to mine, stroking my achingly swollen clit. I was no longer holding back my moans. All I could think about was that sensation, rolling and quaking through me, building up until the waves no longer crashed ashore. They drowned me. I came against his hand, letting out a strange, choked cry. The waves of pleasure carried me, taking their time, relaxing every muscle.
As the sweet throbbing gradually settled, I risked a glance at him. “Oh, God. I needed that.”
“Me too,” he rasped. “Thank you for letting me… not be here.”
I sighed. How could I pretend that never happened? “Your turn,” I said, again reaching for him under the covers. It was only fair.
But he pulled away, leaving my hand grasping for air.
Chapter Nineteen
Charlie
Imade it out of her reach, just in time. My self-restraint had never been tested like this. Seeing Bess lose control was hands down the hottest thing I’d ever witnessed.
Forbidden things were always the hottest, weren’t they? But there was also something about her… something so tightly-wound that I desperately wanted to see it unravel. Or even feel it, in the darkness. Being able to witness her pleasure, even take a small part in it, felt like a miracle.
“Come on, Charlie. Let me…” Her finger grazed my thigh, voice still throaty and breathless, and it nearly dragged me down.
But I couldn’t take what she was offering. Not like this. Not when I hadn’t been honest. Definitely not before I had some good news to balance out the bad. I’d turn things around, undo the mess, and she’d never need to know. Or I’d find her a better job.
I pushed her hand away. “I already took care of myself in the shower.”
It was true, but obviously bullshit, since I was so hard I’d probably come again in two minutes.
She launched at me, unexpectedly, her fingers closing around my rock-hard cock. “I don’t think you did a very good job.”
I wanted to pin her against the stupid sofa bed and drive into her until I forgot my own name. I held my breath, riding the wave of overwhelming desire. For a moment I could think of nothing else. But underneath it, a small, insistent voice I seemed to have developed, one that piped up at the most inconvenient times, said something about how I always took what I wanted. How I immediately ordered every single thing I fancied, with expedited delivery. I was a slave to my impulses, already eating the lowest hanging fruit when others fetched a ladder to reach a little higher.
This is why you don’t have the great thing. You take every good thing at every opportunity. Great things take patience. Build-up.
I wanted more than the good and the okay. If I wanted it with Bess, I had to be patient. I’d thought our working relationship as a good one, but I was confusing good with convenient. Our relationship had always been one-sided: I told her what I wanted and she delivered. I had to change the dynamic.
Gathering all of my willpower and some I didn’t have, I rolled away from her and off the bed. “Don’t worry about me. Tonight is about you, Bess. I don’t want you to take care of anyone else, okay?”
“Wha… why?” Her voice sounded wobbly like she was close to tears. “Do you not want me?”
I sat back down on the bed, flicking on her night light. Its blue glass shade cast a giant blue ring on the sloping ceiling.Even in the blue light, she looked flushed. Her gaze was unfocused, hair mussed. She’d never been more beautiful.
“I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you right now. But I think tonight should be about you.”
“I don’t understand.” Her lower lip trembled, adorably hurt and sexy. The blue light painted the edge of her face, illuminating her cheekbones.
“I don’t want you to do anything with me because you feel like you should. Because you feel… responsible.”
