Chapter 22 #2
“Tell me what you want, Summer.” I can’t stop myself from saying what I’m thinking any longer.
Can’t deny this chemistry between us. I need to know what she wants from this.
From me. Because I’ll walk out of this kitchen and back up those stairs if it’s not us.
But if this is about her not trusting her own decisions…
if she thinks she needs validation from Julia or anyone else in her life, she’s wrong.
Her hands shake as she stuffs the coffee pot away.
“I want you to know… I took this job for Quinn. I like spending my time with her, and I don’t want to do anything to ruin that.”
“I know. You aren’t,” I assure her.
“But if this is a game to you—”
“I’m a thirty-three-year-old widower with a toddler, Summer.
I don’t have time for games.” I’ve thought long and hard about this, is what I’m saying.
Leaning into sex just because it feels good is not a luxury I have anymore.
I know the ramifications of this dynamic, and I want her. “I need to know what you want.”
“I just—”
Her sentence cuts off when I run my nose along her shoulder.
Her back arches, and the move sticks her ass out.
She can’t press it against my lap and expect me not to find out what that means.
Her head falls back on my shoulder, her perky tits tenting her T-shirt.
Swift pants follow the rise and fall of her chest. I’m waiting for her to say it. To break the charged silence.
“I want…”
My breath ghosts against her skin at the base of her throat.
“I need…”
I’m dying here. Desperate for her to finish that sentence.
“… you to touch me.” Her voice is barely above a whisper. A soft plea she’s afraid to say. This is about trust. Summer is scared to ask for what she wants, and I’m going to make her not so afraid anymore.
The pads of my fingertips graze her thighs, coasting up the tense muscles that bunch beneath her skin.
She braces herself against the counter, sagging forward at the waist. A quiver follows the path I’m drawing higher and higher.
By the time I reach the apex of her outer thighs, there’s no doubt she can feel everything she’s doing to me.
It’s as far as I planned to take this without more direction. “Now what?”
She’s still trembling. Still hasn’t moved or touched me back. I don’t want her to. This isn’t about me. She has to know how much this is affecting me.
“Higher,” she pants more boldly this time.
My fingertips slide under her shirt. Coast over delicate fabric.
I squeeze her backside, and she groans, giving in to the pressure of my hands and tipping even further forward.
I’m barely holding it together with her bent over like this.
Pressure is building, drawing my balls in tight.
When my hands slide up her waist, so does her shirt.
Fabric drapes so high white lace is on display.
I’m already gone, and we’ve just started.
Impulse and need are gnawing at my spine.
Temptation is literally in my lap, but I want to prove to Summer that deep down she knows what she wants, and she deserves every bit of it.
I’m not going to stop until I convince her otherwise.
She grinds against me and whimpers, “Take off my shirt.”
I drag it over her head and toss it on the floor.
Two soft breasts fill my hands when she presses them to her chest—helps me squeeze her nipples with our thumbs and pointer fingers entwined.
It’s erotic watching her take charge of her own body and give herself over to the intoxicating friction.
Her hand slips to her waist as she peels her underwear down her legs and kicks them off to the side.
Then she finally, finally spins to face me.
She grabs my wrist when I touch the rim of my glasses. “Leave them on.”
Oh. Then she’s kissing me. Tongues, hands, legs, everything’s tangling.
There’s no hesitation left in the way she’s grinding against me.
I forgot how good this can feel. What it’s like to chase a high and race toward a finish line.
I need her on this counter. I thread my arm around her waist and then I’m jerking her on top of the surface.
Her lips split into a laugh when her heel bangs into a drawer, metal rattling inside of it.
I have no idea how far to take this. I’m leaning into what she wants, and right now that’s my face between her thighs as she pushes on the crown of my head.
I rip my glasses off, sliding them toward the sink, and kneel before her.
Both her legs wrap my shoulders, and her head knocks against the cabinet behind her.
“Shh,” I whisper, blowing a breath right where she wants me. Her hips buck with the swipe of my tongue. So many sounds are tumbling out of her mouth, every one of them coaxing the fire inside that’s threatening to burn me alive. She’s no longer holding back what she wants.
Faster.
Right there.
Don’t stop.
Her muscles tense and release beneath my hands as I hold her steady. I can tell she’s close when she clamps down on the two fingers I’m pumping inside her. Spots are popping up in my vision, my world rapidly tipping on its axis.
“Everett…” Her hand sinks in my hair. “If you don’t stop…” She rocks against my face. “I’m gonna come…”
“I’m counting on it,” I growl as she cries out. I carry her through her release until she slumps, sated, against the cupboard behind her. Only in the silence between the ragged breaths we share do I hear my name being called.
“Da-eee?”
With a sudden rush, I leave Summer, running for the stairs.