Page 70 of Coming Up Roses
“Whenever you want,” she says, a soft smile curving her delicious mouth. “Obviously when other people are around we keep it friendly though.”
“But when we’re alone?”
“Touch me all you want.” She rolls over, pushing me down and laying her naked body over my mine. “Just remember to keep talking to me, okay?”
“Okay, I can do that.”
Then, because she told me I can touch her all I want, I reach up and capture her mouth with mine, dragging my hands over her bare skin.
I completely ignore the little thought at the back of my mind that tells me I’ll never actually be able to touch her all I want, because I never, ever want to stop.
I had to stop.Eventually. And I haven’t had the chance to touch Abi again in days.
Between our jobs and Abi spending time with Sadie, we’ve had no chance to spend time alone, which means the few times we have crossed paths I’ve had to keep any touches super casual.
I’ve decided it might just be easier not to touch her at all because as soon as my hand comes in contact with her, I’m overwhelmed with need, with desire, with this strange burning something in my chest.
I take the steps to Abi’s office two at a time, pausing in the door to drink in the sight of her. She’s sitting at her desk in a silky green shirt that matches her eyes and her hair pulled into a ponytail high on her head.
The professional business woman look is not something I thought I’d be into, but it works on Abi, especially when I know she can rock a pair of jeans and climb on a dirt bike.
And the cowboy boots.
We’ve actually made plans to spend time together this afternoon and as much fun as I’m going to have hanging out with her and maybe taking her and my bike back to the beach for another lesson if she wants, I’m hoping we’ll end up naked by the end of the night.
Abi glances up as I lean against the doorframe. “Oh, hey,” she says, sounding distracted.
“Hey, Rosie.” I step across the room, taking in the sheets of paper spread across the desk. They’re covered in lists and numbers. A quick glance at her computer screen shows the same. “This looks … awful.”
Abi groans. “It is. Budgets.” She pulls a face.
“Ew.” I mirror her expression. “Do you need to finish it now? Or are you nearly ready tohead off?”
“Sorry. I didn’t realise the time. I’ll just finish up.”
“No worries, Rosie. Take your time. What do you want to do?”
Abi pauses gathering up the sheets of paper. She’s shoving them into a rough stack like she really hates them, but she drops the stack onto the desk. Her head falls back, hitting the headrest on her chair.
“No more decisions,” she grumbles. “I’m all out of decisions. Between these budgets and trying to fill the bar staff roster with people who actually want to turn up to work and dealing with a particularly frustrating couple … just no more decisions.”
“Rough day, huh?” I stride around her desk, hands coming to rest on her shoulders. She lets out a pleasant little hum at the touch.
The sound goes straight to my dick, and it twitches. Now really isn’t the time.
“Yeah,” she sighs. “I just want to get out of my head for a bit.”
She’s said those words to me before and I take a moment to place the context. She said that to me about the day we made out on the beach. I don’t know if her repeating them now is a hint, but I’m not going to let this opportunity pass me by.
I drag my thumb up the side of her neck and she lets out a breathy sigh. I trail my fingers along her collarbone, slipping them inside the edge of her shirt. Another little hum from Abi. My other hand strokes down her hair and when she relaxes into the touch I wrap her ponytail around my fist.
“I have an idea that could help you get out of your head,”I whisper.
“Yeah?” Her voice is already wrecked and broken and I’ve barely touched her.
“Yeah. If you’re up for it.” I use my grip on her hair to tilt her head back so she’s looking up at me. Her wide-eyed gaze locks with mine and she gives the tiniest nod, all she can with me holding her in place.
I drop her ponytail and remove my hand from where my fingers have been dancing across her chest.
