Page 41 of Under Control
She laughed and slid her hands under his T-shirt. She loved how his abs clenched under her touch. “I try not to talk about work too much.”
“I know, and I don’t mind when you do. You get really intense and it’s hot.”
“Speaking of hot, it’s a little warm in here.”
He grinned before lowering his mouth to hers and kissing her until there was no doubt it was very, very warm in there.
“I turned the air-conditioning down so you’d get hot and strip all your clothes off,” he said, undoing the top button of the long shirt she’d thrown over leggings.
“You did not.”
He chuckled as he moved to the next button. And the next. “No, I didn’t. The air conditioner’s an ancient window unit and loud as hell, so I only turn it on when it’s really humid or the kids complain.”
“It’s not that bad.”
“Do you want me to turn it on?”
She undid the bottom button of her shirt and worked her way up until their hands met. “I’d rather strip all my clothes off. And yours, too.”
They managed to get most of their clothes off by the time they reached the couch, but she was still wearing her pink lace panties and bra when he pulled her down onto his lap. She was pretty sure he’d timed it that way purposely because hereallyliked lace.
She straddled his lap, making sure the lace between her legs skimmed over the hard flesh of his naked erection. He groaned, his fingertips clenching her hips so hard she was sure they’d leave dents. She didn’t care.
He caught one nipple between his teeth, through the lace, and bit down with just enough pressure to make her squirm. Considering her position on his lap, she wasn’t surprised when the squirming made him moan low in his throat and lift his hips for more contact between him and the lace.
“God, I want you,” he unclenched his jaw long enough to say.
She reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. And she watched his tongue flick over his lower lip as she slowly slid the straps down her arms. His hands replaced the lace—warm and rough—and she sighed as his thumbs brushed over her nipples.
“Oh...shit.”
Olivia jerked her head up to see a person standing in the kitchen and it felt as if her heart skipped before going into overdrive to make up for the missed beat. The woman she assumed was Amber—hisex-wife—turned around, which left her staring at the door and Olivia staring at her back. “Sorry.”
Mortification heated Olivia’s skin and, since she was naked, she knew it was visible. When Derek pulled the lightweight throw off the back of the couch, she held it in front of her and scrambled off him, belatedly hoping she didn’t do him any permanent damage. With one hand clutching the blanket in a poor attempt to cover herself, she snatched up her clothes and retreated to the bedroom and kicked the door closed behind her.
Even over the pounding of her heartbeat in her ears, she could hear the conversation taking place in the living room.
“You can turn around now,” she heard Derek say, which she took to mean he’d put pants on or at least covered himself with a throw pillow. Or two.
“I’m so sorry, Derek,” Amber said. “I should have knocked.”
“I should have locked the door, I guess.”
“I have a key.”
Olivia frowned, her fingers tightening on the blanket she was still holding over her breasts. A guy’s ex-wife having a key to his apartment didn’t seem typical to her. The divorces in her own family had started out with open warfare and settled into lingering, long-term hostility. None of them would have dared give an ex a house key.
No matter what he’d said about their friendship and lack of animosity, it seemed weird.
“Isaac left the book he was reading here,” Amber was saying. “And you know how he is. There’s no reading something else until he can come back and get it and he doesn’t want to fall behind on his summer reading list.”
“I tried to get him to read on that tablet you bought him, but he said it’s not the same.”
“I’ve tried, too. I mean, Jason and I both read on our phones and Julia reads on her tablet, but he wants the paper books. I even tried showing him that I can carry dozens of books with me all the time and they don’t weigh anything. He said that carrying books is exercise and makes him stronger than me.”
Derek’s laugh rang through the apartment and Olivia sighed. There was an easy familiarity in their discussion—which made sense for two people who’d been married for ten years—and she moved away from the door. After pulling on her clothes, though, she wasn’t sure what to do, so she wasted another minute neatly folding the throw blanket and setting it on the foot of his bed.
They were laughing about something again and she put her hand on the doorknob. Unless he really was sitting on the couch wearing nothing but a pillow on his lap, it was a little rude for him not to have popped his head in to check on her. It was Amber who’d busted in unannounced and embarrassed them. Or her, at least. It didn’t sound like Derek cared.
