Chapter Thirty-Three Gemma
Chapter Thirty-Three
Gemma
My thong is soaked through.
I’m sitting in a pool of my own arousal. I’m desperate to do something about the throb between my legs, but truth be told, I’m hesitant to stand for fear of having a wet patch on the back of my skirt.
The fact that everyone thinks I’m either constipated or unable to fart isn’t helping my situation. Will and Tom have been tossing me quizzical glances since Anna announced to the entire party that my butt’s apparently on strike.
My core throbs and heat lashes my skin. I need to get myself off. It’s like trying to scratch an itch you can’t reach—except the one person who could help is sitting right beside you.
“I want you.”
His voice is like gravel. Rough and raspy. I close my eyes, taking a deep breath to steady myself, his words sending another pulse through me.
His fingers connect with my thigh again under the table, but this time he stays on top of the fabric.
“I can’t,” I breathe, while every cell in my body screams the opposite.
I cast a look around, observing what everyone else is doing.
They’re all a few drinks deep and nicely buzzed.
They look busy. Thankfully, Tom, Will, and Oliver have relocated to the couch, chatting about their upcoming US tour.
April and James are helping Caroline in the kitchen, all of them smiling and laughing about something I can’t hear.
“Anna’s right there,” I say, punctuating my words as I tip my head toward the courtyard where my best friend is in the middle of what looks to be an intense conversation.
“No one will notice. They’re all focused elsewhere,” he says.
I chew the inside of my cheek, mulling over my options. I could say no, knowing he’ll only continue to tempt me with those masterful fingers. I could excuse myself and dash to the bathroom to take care of my itch and clean myself up. Or… I could give in to the reckless impulse coursing through me.
The part of my brain that isn’t drowning in hormones knows this isn’t a wise idea. But rationality seems to evacuate whenever Max Browne is around.
“Follow me in thirty seconds. Down the hallway next to the stairs. Second door on the left,” I instruct.
His eyes darken.
No one watches as I stand without another word and make my way to the guest bedroom.