“Someone like you?” she asks slowly, still not getting it.
“Yeah, a dirty redneck.” I’m aware I sound petty, but that’s how I see myself. It’s how I was forced to see myself.
Her face turns angry, her little nose scrunches, and her brows draw together. “Don’t say that about yourself. And besides, what if I like dirty rednecks? They’re quite capable of doing things those idiot Wall Street boys can’t.”
My stomach drops, and familiar lead settles in. “I see. You just want some thrill with trailer trash.”
“What?” She shakes her head, looking shocked. “What’s up with you people calling yourself that?” She practically whispers, clearly annoyed. I don’t think it was meant for my ears. She sighs and says louder, “I asked you because you’re the first man I’ve felt safe with since… yeah, well, since then.”
My stomach drops again but for a different reason. I’m fucking petty. “I’m sorry, Alicia.” I wipe my face with my hand. “I guess I’m kind of fucked up.”
She’s watching me without a response.
“Do you still want to try it?”
“Try what?” She looks down at her hands.
“A kiss.”
Her eyes darken as she swallows roughly.
“It’s okay if you changed your mind.” I assure her.
“I didn’t!” It comes out a little too loud, and judging by the way her cheeks grow an even darker shade of pink, it embarrasses her.
“All right. Come here.” I pat the space on the bed in front of me, and she eyes it warily.
“Like right now?” Her voice drops an octave, and that deep, the siren’s tone tickles my lower belly, stirring my dick.Down, boy. Not now.
“Did you want to make an appointment?” I quirk a brow, and she giggles, shaking her head. “Then come here.” I pat the bed again, calling my willpower to help me stay fuckin’ still.
She looks at Ghost, snoring in the corner without a care in the world, and slowly moves to the bed. I sit on the side, my legs spread wide, and she sits next to me, her legs tucked under her. There’s a half foot between us, but it feels like we’re on separate continents. My hands itch to move her closer, but I give her the reins. No matter what I want, I don’t know how to do gentle, so I’ll let her lead the way.
“What do I do?” she asks, biting her lower lip and driving me insane.
“Whatever you want.” My voice is coarse, and my dick is hard just from her proximity to me. I wish it would calm the fuck down, but the fucker stays up and alert. I mentally smack my forehead on the wall.
She brings her thumb to her mouth and bites it, causing a sound to escape deep from my throat, and her eyes dart up. “Are you okay?”
My chuckle is full of pain. If her biting her damn thumb causes such a reaction in my body, I have no idea what will happen when her lips touch mine. “Yeah,” I answer after clearing my throat.
“Okay.” She licks her lips again, and they shine with a moisture. I’ve never fucking paid attention to the saliva on a woman’s lips. What the hell is wrong with me?
Her hand comes up to my shoulder, touching it ever so slightly. She’s scared to move forward, so I bring my hand on top of hers, keeping her in place. So much for giving her free rein.
Her gaze meets mine, and a shy smile brightens her face. She brings her other hand to my other shoulder and licks her lips again. How long will she torture me? At this point, my dick is pressing against the fly of my thermal jeans, threatening to escape its prison. I’m so happy I didn’t put my sweats on, or I’d be sporting a huge tent.
What the fuck am I thinking about?
She fumbles, moving closer on her knees and stopping right in front of me.
“Can you do it?” she asks, her voice hesitant.
“Do what?” I don’t recognize my own voice. It’s close to a growl.
“Kiss me.” Her eyes are fixated on my lips.
I don’t need another invitation.
