Page 124 of Things We Never Got Over (Knockemout)
“Of course I am. How am I going to fix any problems if I don’t know they exist?”
“So talk to the teacher,” I said, watching the outline of her nipples
get more pronounced under the two triangles of fabric that stood between me and what I wanted.
“I think I will,” she said. “How’s Nash doing?”
Instead of answering, I clamped a hand over her wrist and hauled her over to the shady patio under the deck. Her skin was cold from the creek. Seeing her curves all wet like that was messing with my head.
I picked up the fluffy beach towel next to her neatly folded clothing on one of the lounge chairs that hadn’t seen the light of day in years and handed it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, bending over in front of me to run the towel through her hair.
A man only had so much self-control, and I’d just reached my limit.
I pulled the towel out of her hands and walked her backwards until her back met the support column.
“Knox—” I pressed a finger to her mouth then pointed above us.
“Who wants medium rare?” Lou asked.
“Stef, this drink ain’t gonna refill itself,” Liza J said.
“What are you doing?” Naomi whispered.
Pinning her in place with my hips, she got the message pretty damn quick. When her mouth opened in an O, I yanked the triangles of her top apart.
Full, luscious, wet. My mouth watered, and it had nothing to do with the food being passed above us.
“Jesus, Daze. I see you like this, and I can’t wait to get back in your bed.”
I dipped my head and closed my mouth over one chilled peak. Her sexy little gasp, the way her hands clamped on my shoulders, the way she leaned into my mouth like she wanted it as bad as I did. It all went straight to my dick.
“I’d fuck you right here if I thought for a second I could get away with it.”
She took one hand off my shoulder and shoved it between our bodies, cupping my erection through my jeans. I covered her hand with mine and squeezed. Hard. I thrust against our hands, greedy for the friction.
“Kids! Dinner,” Amanda called from above us.
“Aunt Naomi, how many green beans do I hafta eat?”
The glassiness in Naomi’s eyes cleared. “Oh. My. God,” she mouthed at me.
I gave both nipples a not-so-gentle tweak before readjusting her top. I wanted to fuck her in that bikini. To untie one or two of those strings and guarantee all the right access. Then I wanted to take her every way possible until neither one of us could walk. Instead, I was going to have dinner with a hard-on and an audience.
Sometimes life just wasn’t fucking fair.
She slugged me in the shoulder. “What is wrong with you?” she hissed. “Our families are right up there!”
“A whole lot of things,” I said with a grin.
“You’re the worst. We’re coming!” she yelled.
“We will be later,” I promised under my breath.
TWENTY-SIX
PMS AND THE BULLY
