"I got into the pool? In the winter? Why?"
He shook his head, obviously fighting laughter. "I have no idea. But thank God you didn't drown, because Brent and I were so gobsmacked we just stood there laughing our asses off. Or, at least, we laughed until you climbed out."
Her entire body flushed. "White cotton panties and a matching cotton bra. That's about all I wore in high school."
"I could see your nipples--hard and tight from the cold water. And the dark shadow of your pubic hair against the wet panties."
"Oh." Her breath stuttered in her throat. "Did it make you hard?"
"Hell, yes. I told myself you were my best friend. That you were just being a goof. That I couldn't possibly want you."
"But you did." She lifted the skirt a tiny bit higher, revealing more thigh, but not yet showing her panties. "You did want me."
He dropped to his knees in front of her, then tilted his head back to meet her eyes. "Hell, yes," he said. "I pushed it away. Buried it. Ignored it. But I never stopped."
"White cotton," she confirmed, her heart pounding so hard she feared she'd crack a rib. "But you won't see any pubic hair, not even if they're wet. I'm waxed."
"Oh, baby. Show me."
It was an order she couldn't disobey, and she tugged her skirt the rest of the way up, exposing the plain cotton panties that she would never think were boring again.
"That's my girl," he said, his fingertip tracing the elastic of the leg hole, the sensation so deliciously erotic that she had to reach back and grasp the edge of the desk just to keep her knees from buckling.
"And what do you know?" he murmured as his fingertip slipped inside her panties. "You are wet."
&
nbsp; "Very," she said. "Reece, please."
"Please what?"
"You know."
"Do I?" His finger slid over her folds, the tip dipping inside her in slow, methodical thrusts.
She closed her eyes and tilted her head back. "Oh, God."
"Is this what you want?"
"More," she murmured. "Please."
"Tell me," he said. "I want to hear you say it."
She licked her lips. She wanted to beg for his cock. She wanted him inside her so much her pussy was clenching in anticipation. And she knew he wanted it, too. But some ridiculous, unreasonable fear was telling her not to say it out loud. That as soon as she did, all of this would disappear, and she'd be left frustrated and embarrassed because she'd reached for more than she deserved.
"Please," she said. "Don't make me."
He pulled back, and her head snapped down, afraid that he'd stopped for good. She saw his furrowed brow, and she knew he was puzzled by her. She tried to think what to say, but he saved her from the effort when he took the finger he'd been touching her with and lifted it to her mouth. Gently, he stroked her lower lip until she drew the digit in and sucked, her head spinning from her own musky taste mingled with the sweetness of his skin.
"It's okay, baby," he finally said. "There's nothing to be scared of. It's me. It's you, and it's me."
Slowly, he withdrew the finger, then put his hands around her waist and lifted her to the desk. "Spread your legs and let me prove it to you."
She did as ordered, spreading her legs wide, and then putting her hands behind her to balance when he tugged her right to the edge of the desk. He dropped back to his knees, then trailed kisses up her inner thigh until he reached the apex.
Slowly--so wonderfully slowly--he traced the tip of his tongue along the edge of her panties before closing his mouth over her pussy. He sucked and bit through the plain cotton, teasing her so thoroughly that she found herself clutching the table so hard she would surely leave indentations.
Calling on all her strength, she tried to stay still, but her body bucked with pleasure, her muscles spasming in a desperate attempt to draw him in, and all she could do was beg. "Please, more. Reece, I want more."