A glow of satisfaction washed over me at his praise. Another warm slide of his mouth glided against mine, too.
Pulling back he continued, “Either I’m the biggest idiot alive for not seeing it before, or I’m a lucky son of a bitch for having you around to talk me into it.”
We got deeper into the maze, passing props here and there. He kissed me fast and rough this time causing me to whimper.
“I’m damn lucky anyway, for getting to have you like this.”
“Okay,” I said. Grabbing his wrist, I dragged him into the little part of the maze I’d found earlier. When the contractors were showing me the setup, they also showed me the secret doors the workers used to hide so they could jump out and scare people.
Shutting the hay covered door behind us, I leaned back against it, wishing it had a lock. It didn’t matter too much, though. Not as I watched the man in front of me look around the small room with confusion and wonder.
He hadn’t dressed up and I can’t say that surprised me. His standard uniform of old jeans that hugged the crap out of his thighs and a simple t-shirt, usually black or gray or some other neutral color, seemed well suited enough for the night. Today it was a long sleeve shirt that effectively covered all his tattoos except for one behind his left ear and the tiniest lick of another that peeked out the top of his shirt.
I wanted to strip him bare. I wanted to see all of him. But I was practically naked, and we were practically in the ocean now we were so close. I knew how cold it was or at least how cold it must be when you didn’t feel like there was fire lighting under your skin. So I wouldn’t undress him and subject him to it.
“Harper?” I said. He looked at me as I pressed myself against the door. “Can you come here?”
He did. Appearing right before me without a second thought.Hands set themselves on my hips, and a face set itself in front of mine. “Yes?”
“Can I—” I broke off as I looked up to his eyes. “Can I touch?”
Slowly, his head tipped back, a soft groan leaving him. “You wanna touch me?”
“Mhmm,” I said, squirming a little. “Please.”
“I thought I was supposed to be the one touching you. Making you feel good,” he said.
“I’m sure you’ve already guessed by now,” I started. “But making people feel good does make me feel good.”
“Kinky, Boss. Real kinky,” he joked, and I laughed, but I was distracted because as he spoke he reached down and lifted my hand to his face. Running my hand over the stubble of his short beard and then lower so that my fingers skated across his neck.
“Lower,” I instructed, and though he gave me a heavy look, he did what I asked him to, moving our hands lower so that he guided my palms over the hard muscle of his chest and onto the ridged plains of his abs. “Under.”
He listened again, sliding my hand under his shirt, allowing me to explore the warm feeling of his smooth skin. I wish I could feel his tattoos. Wish I could know what they were by just touching them, but I wasn’t going to waste time and ask about them now. Not when his full lips had just parted, and he was starting to let out those short breaths and deep groans that I was finding I loved to elicit from him.
“Lower,” I whispered.
“Alta.”
I speared him with a stern look. “Lower, Harper.”
He hesitated a moment but ultimately obeyed. Sliding my hand down his torso and over his belt. Tricky, he changed course so that the next thing my palm made contact with was his thigh. I liked how strong they were. Bigger than mine, muscular too. But that’s not what I wanted, and he knew it.
“Harper,” I warned. “Let me touch.”
He groaned. “You might want to slow down, Boss. You’re moving too fast.”
“I thought our deal was, I tell you what I want?” I responded.
He groaned again. “And that’s to touch me?”
“Yes,” I breathed exasperatedly. “Please.”
Something about the word made his body tremble and his eyes flutter closed as he resumed our movements. Running my palm to his other thigh, where I almost protested again until my palm lifted onto the ridge of something hard in his pants.
I hummed in appreciation at the way he was for me right now. I’d barely started to touch him, and somehow I managed to win a reaction like this? That coupled with the low moans he couldn’t seem to stop had me wanting to do anything to make him react.
“Under,” I whispered. And this time I moved my own hand to flip the buckle of his belt. Sliding it open and the zipper of his pants down. I waited for him to take the lead, because while I wanted him to know I was sure about this, I didn’t want to venture where he didn’t want either. And I was the one touching him after all. But as he hesitated, staring at me like he was both in pain and bliss, I raised an eyebrow. “What are you waiting for?”
