“Good friends do.”

The wind blew, rustling the leaves, enough sound to break me out of it. I shoved him off.

“We’re friends,” I said, wiping my brow. “We’re supposed to be friends.”

“Friends?” Grayson growled. “I’ll be your fucking friend, Story. I won’t touch you.” He traveled his hand down his abdomen, gripping his hard cock over his jeans. “I’ll stay away from you. Go on, go back inside.” He jerked his head toward the opening of the maze.

I was frozen.

Transfixed.

I couldn’t see anything save the hard, tapered outline, and that made it worse. Made the memory of him ache inside me.

A cocky, cruel grin speared his pink lips. “Sure you don’t want to touch me, little nun?”

I wanted to touch him so badly. I wanted to feel him.

“You…” I swallowed, watching him palm and work himself. “Your wife…someone could hear.”

“Who the fuck cares? I’ll fuck you right here until you scream so loud everyone comes to make sure you’re not fucking dead.”

He fucked himself harder, faster. My thumb came to my bottom lip.

“Oh, little nun, you want this bad.”

My eyes locked with his.

“Get over here,” he commanded.

Go back, the sane part of my brain said, the part barely clinging to the idea I could still leave Crowne Point.

I moved to him. In a trance.

The minute I was within reach, Grayson grabbed my wrist and thrust my hand to the waistband of his jeans. I met the deep, hot ridges of his eight-pack.

But no further.

If we were going to do this, I had to make the decision.

He continued to work himself, and the movement rubbed the hem of his jeans against my palm. Each rough scrape eroded my willpower. I slid the tips of my fingers down, brushing coarse hair.

His half-lidded eyes and clenched jaw, the look that said he was about to tear me up, made my heart pound. Almost as much as the feeling of him as I lowered my hand more.

“Friends help friends,” he rasped, with a wicked smile spearing his lips.

Then I felt him. Hot. Hard. Iron and velvet and Grayson.

The humor in his eyes vanished into brutal lust.

Oh god. It was wrong.

It was like he saw the words in my head, because he sandwiched my hand beneath his, trapping me over his cock, in his jeans.

“Friends help friends, little nun.”

He palmed himself like he’d done before, but now he used my hand as sinful friction.

Slowly at first.

Tags: Mary Catherine Gebhard Crowne Point Erotic
Source: readsnovelonline.net