“Uncomfortable,” I replied.
“Is it…okay?”
“My cock?”
Then she started laughing, giggling like an adorable schoolgirl who had cut classes and didn’t get caught.
“Yeah,” she answered, still laughing. “Is it?”
I let out a sigh. “I need to…adjust it.”
“Okay?”
“Hmm. You need to get off me first. Unless you want me to continue.”
She sucked in a breath and didn’t say anything, but her body did. Her hips moved.
I gripped her hips, then guided her against my arousal. I sucked on my bottom lip, grinding up against her. Wanting more.
“Stop!” she said, laughing, swatting my arm playfully.
“I’m sorry,” I said teasingly. “Are we finished?”
Her lashes fluttered. “Let me up, Cam.”
I could feel her body yearning for my touch. But I thought of the last time I had her on top of me and what I’d promised her. I let out a long breath, lifted her up, and placed her gently on the bench. She weighed as much as a feather.
Her face was flushed, but she didn’t look away, watching me as I adjusted myself in my pants.
“Better?” she asked. Her voice sounded raspy.
Not really. “Yeah,” I lied.
I was sure she’d drive the hell out of here using my truck and leave me if she knew what was in my head. What I was imagining doing to her. What I was imagining her doing to me.
She got up, pulling her dress down, fixing her hair. I felt the loss of warmth and the weight of her body as I pushed up from the bench, stood beside her.
“Here,” I said, handing her the blue hair tie so she could put her hair up if she wanted to.
She shook her head. “Keep it. I want you to.”
I smiled and put it in my pocket. I wanted to keep it. She’d given it to me. And now she couldn’t take it back.
I pushed open the wooden secret door and let her pass first. We walked for a bit. She was quiet, but she was making these little sighs now and then. I lowered my head so she wouldn’t see my smile. She was thinking about what happened in the secret passage.
“Do you have any hair ties from other girls?” she blurted out suddenly.
I frowned. “No. Why would I?”
She grinned. “Good answer.”
“It’s not a good answer,” I said, walking beside her deeper into the maze. “Or bad. It just is.”
Why did she want to talk about this? Feeling uncomfortable, I stole a glance at her. Was she going to blow up later about this, or did she just genuinely want to know?
I went out with girls before, and I thought I had a pretty good idea what they were like, but with her, I never knew what was coming.
She looked at me as if she was still waiting for an answer. I reminded myself that she wanted me to open up more.