Three Little Mistakes (Blindfold Club 3)

My gaze went from the hand clasping mine on the wheel over to her hopeful expression.

“Better?” she asked.

“I didn’t give you permission to touch me.” My voice was guarded.

There was the qui

et sound of her sucking in a breath, and she tried to draw away. No. She’d started it. I would press further, until I found out where this thing between us was headed.

“But since you did,” I continued, “this goes here.” My fingers wrapped around her wrist and tugged her hand down, setting it on my thigh. Not on top of my dick, which was throbbing, but not too far from it, either.

It was a test. She’d touched me in a friendly gesture, but I could read beneath the action. M was curious, but nervous.

“Tell me a secret,” I demanded.

A long moment passed before she let out the breath she’d been holding. “I’ve lived kind of a sheltered life. Until last month, my parents were really involved, and that made it hard to do what I wanted. Tonight I decided to do things I wouldn’t normally.”

“Such as going home with a stranger.”

Her light, tentative squeeze on my leg sent every drop of blood in my body surging south of my belt, and I clenched my teeth. Jesus Fucking Christ, control yourself. “What happened last month?”

“A lot of stuff. My . . . mom moved out.” Her voice fell low as her hand inched upward. “And I broke up with my boyfriend.”

“How long were you together?”

“Two very long years.”

So her interest wasn’t so much in me personally, as it was in a little rebound action. Fine with me. The longest relationship I’d had? Maybe two months. I didn’t date because nothing lasted forever.

“So now you’re off the leash and out from under your parents’ scrutiny, and you came to my club looking for some fun.” I took her lack of an answer as agreement. “Did you find it?”

The hand slipped further along the length of my thigh so it brushed just against my hard-on, her movement hesitant. “Maybe,” she said in a shaky voice. “You tell me.”

I let out half a laugh. She was trying so hard to be bold. “If you’re going to touch me, honey, do it for real.” I repositioned her hand. “Feel how hard I am? You did that.”

She gasped. “Don’t call me honey.” Her scolding was whisper quiet.

Her fingers flexed, but once again, she didn’t retreat. She wasn’t backing down. Her hand brushed lightly, caressing me.

“Fuck, touch me, M.” I guided her, dragging her hand down every goddamn inch, pressing her palm hard against me. I spun the wheel, turning off of the expressway.

“Where are you—?”

There was a parking lot just one block down, and I maneuvered through the slush up to the automatic ticket stand. Snow battered me momentarily as I rolled down the window, stabbed the button, and yanked the ticket out of the feeder. The gate lifted and I pulled in.

“Joseph.” There was a tremor in her voice that I ignored, guiding the car under the bridge of the El track that ran over the lot, keeping us secluded from the one lonely security light. I parked in the shadows, sandwiching my car between two that were coated in ice, as if they’d been there a while. The snow was blowing sideways, and we’d be hidden in no time.

Not that it mattered; not a soul was around.

I turned off my headlights and gave her my full attention. No, not true. She’d had it the moment I’d spied her on the dance floor of my club.

“What’s going on?” Her cautious look was a warning, like she no longer felt all that safe.

“I can’t focus on driving and what you’re doing at the same time. This is what I want to focus on, don’t you? What would you normally do?” Again I guided her hand to massage me.

Stuttered breath dragged through her parted lips as she feathered a single stroke over my zipper and the flesh beneath.

“Yeah,” I encouraged. “Like that.”