Unwritten (Woodlands 5)

Her fingers close around me, as best as they can through the denim. Which is not even close to how I want it, but I don’t dare risk unzipping my jeans. While I have few inhibitions, I don’t think Landry’s the type to enjoy so public a display of my affection. Plus her brother’s here, and me throwing Landry on her back and taking her in this booth would not be keeping this thing between us quiet.

I tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, my fingers lingering around the delicate arch. “No. Not anymore. Now it just feels good. More importantly, it’s going to make you feel good.”

The petting continues. It’s pure, wonderful torture. I flatten my feet on the ground, take a few deep breaths and try to control myself.

“Will it hurt?” she asks softly.

“No one’s ever—” I halt. I was going to say no one’s ever complained before, but I don’t want to reference past women. “The brochures say it can help a woman get off.”

She bursts out laughing. “The brochures say that, do they?”

I grin back. “That’s what I read in my tattoo artist’s office.”

She continues to laugh. “That’s sweet, but you don’t have to make up stories for my benefit. I know you’ve had sex before.”

“Really? I could be a virgin.”

Her eyes grow wide with shock. “You are?”

“No.” I can’t lie to her. “But I don’t want to talk about past partners. They aren’t important. I don’t want to hear about your past, either.”

“I don’t have much of a past. I haven’t had sex in years.”

“Was everyone at your college dead?”

“I was in the computer lab a lot.”

“Jesus.” Their loss, my gain.

“So back to your dick,” she says.

Said dick swells to unheard-of girth. “We’d better not,” I choke out.

She smiles impishly and I brace myself for whatever torture she wants to inflict. Having her hand on me is better than not.

Unfortunately, Davis returns too soon and Landry immediately pulls her hand away.

This sucks. I’m going to have to have a sit down with Davis.

Sooner rather than later.

Chapter Twenty

Landry

I nearly fall asleep waiting for him. In that time, I have second and third thoughts. I wonder if he will show up. If he’s found someone less complicated. With fewer strings and no conditions. I bite down on a nail and message May five times, but given that she’s not responding, I’m guessing she’s out of reach.

Probably falling in love with one of her guides and getting dicked so hard she can’t ride her pony

, while I’m pacing a hotel room and drinking every minibar bottle. I brush my teeth twice and take off my robe, wearing a little nighty that I bought.

I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. In the mall, surrounded by a volcano of lace and fake silk, this looked great. Now it looks ridiculous. I take off my glasses, but it’s the clothes, not my frames that are the problem. I shove my glasses back on and wrap the robe around me again. The robe makes me look like a belted marshmallow. That’s the furthest thing from sexy.

I toss the robe on the bed and decide to get comfortable. Adam wants to have sex with me. My clothes aren’t going to make a difference. If I have to wait, I might as well wait in clothes that don’t make me feel like I’m playing dress-up in a bad porn movie.

I throw on my sleep shirt with a Grumpy Cat picture on it. As I’m stepping into my boxers, my phone buzzes. I reach for it, forgetting that the boxers are around my ankles.

“Gah,” I yell as I fall forward. I try to brace myself on the coffee table, but I misjudge the distance. My hand hits the side and slides off. I plow face-first into the carpet, knocking my frames askew. At least I was able to grab my phone.