Reaching out, I rest my hand on her thigh and give it a light squeeze. “You ready?”
“So ready,” she says in a husky voice that makes the situation below my belt even more…pressing.
Torture. This is absolutely going to be torture.
But misery can be fun as long as you’ve got the right company.
And an end in sight…
Tonight, this woman will be sleeping in my bed. As long as that’s true, I can handle Torment-By-No-Bra.
Hell, I’ll even enjoy it.
Chapter Five
Colette
The drive is going to be torture.
Thigh-trembling, heart-racing, itch-you-can’t-scratch torture.
I haven’t been with anyone in almost two months. Fernando and I were arguing so much at the end that being intimate didn’t feel right. Even make-up sex lost its appeal by the fifth or sixth time he shouted at me to stop being unreasonable about getting engaged and “act like a normal woman for once.”
But a couple of months without nookie usually wouldn’t be a big deal.
I love sex as much as the next girl, but I’m not a nymphomaniac, for God’s sake.
I’ve gone for long stretches without fun in my bedroom before. I’d rather sleep alone than with someone I’m not sure I can trust. And in my experience, you can’t know what’s in a man’s heart until a certain amount of time has passed.
Anyone can play nice during the shiny new beginning part of a relationship.
I once dated a man who hid his Adderall addiction for six months before I caught him coming down from a four-day bender, and he bit my head off for asking if he’d like to go to the movies during the day instead of waiting until after dinner.
Growing up with an addict for a mother taught me that actions speak louder than words and to take nothing at face value.
No matter how attracted I am to a man, in the beginning, I always hold back. It’s not about playing head games or any old-fashioned notion about men not wanting the cow if they can get the milk for free. I’m just cautious about getting naked and vulnerable with someone who might be hiding deal-breaking behavior.
But Zack is different.
Maybe it’s the fact that my best friend has known and adored him forever. Maybe it’s that I’ve seen him around town for years, ferrying his grandparents to all their social engagements with the patience of a saint. Or it could simply be that he has the kindest eyes I’ve ever seen.
Whatever it is, from the moment his lips met mine, I’ve wanted to be out of my clothes and all over him. Just feeling his hand on my thigh through my dress is enough to make my nipples hard and my panties wet. I want to beg him to pull into the first rest stop and bang me in the family bathroom up against the wall by the hand drier machine, but desperation isn’t sexy.
And there’s a good chance Zack won’t want to sleep with me once he knows how deep my crazy runs.
Then don’t ask him! It’s not too late to jump off the crazy train, woman.
But it is too late. I want Zack in me. Without a condom.
I want it so badly I couldn’t sleep last night, not even after I finally slid my hand down the front of my pajama pants and got myself off imagining what it would be like to feel him coming while he was buried deep inside me.
I’m still imagining it now, making it very difficult to concentrate on polite conversation. I’m sure removing Zack’s hand from my thigh would help, but I’m not about to do anything to discourage him from getting his hands all over me.
There’s a reason I wore a sundress with spaghetti straps and no bra.
I am a woman on a mission, and I’m not above using every weapon in my arsenal to ensure I get what I want, what I need so badly that I feel a little dizzy every time I glance Zack’s way.
God, he’s pretty. And sexy. And sweet.
But he’s also a reasonable human being who isn’t suffering from a killer case of baby-making fever.
I’m almost certainly going to be disappointed. He’s going to say no. He should say no! No is the only reasonable answer to a request like the one I intend to make.
“Would that work?” he asks, making me jump in surprise.
“Sorry, what?” I shake my head, laughing as I turn his way. “Sorry, I was spacing out. What did you say?”
“No worries.” He smiles. “I asked if you were okay with waiting for dinner until we get to the hotel around seven? Or would you like to stop somewhere earlier?”
I shift in my seat, sending his hand sliding higher on my thigh, making my pulse beat hungrily between my legs. “Seven is fine,” I say, barely resisting the urge to squirm beneath his touch.