The Reunion(76)

“Sore.”

“Did you take the pain medicine I left you on the bathroom counter?”

“Yeah,” she whispers. “Thank you.”

“Let me know if it hurts in the middle of the night, okay?” I say, my hand spanning her stomach, my heart pounding at her proximity. She shifts lightly beneath me, moving a little closer.

“Okay.”

“Just wake me up.”

“And how do you propose I wake you up?” she asks.

“A little tap will do,” I say, tapping a finger on her stomach. “A whisper will work too,” I say, lowering my voice, my breath tickling her ear.

She lets out a deep sigh and then pushes the blankets down to her waist.

“Everything okay?” I ask her.

“Yes.” I hear her swallow. “Just hot.”

I smile to myself. Hot or turned on? My guess is going to be the latter, given how I found her when I came back up to my apartment, Roger in tow. I still can’t get over the fact that she was naked in one of my lab coats. I’m not ashamed to say I’ve had similar fantasies before. When I used to come home to visit and catch a glimpse of her, my crush still strong, and I always wondered what it would be like to find her waiting for me when I got home.

Can I just say it’s better than I ever expected?

“Hot, huh?” I say, feeling brave. “Let me help you with that.” I move my shaky hand to the top button of the shirt she borrowed and undo it. “Did that help?” I attempt to swallow back my nerves, but Jesus, I’m in bed with Palmer Chance and she wants me, just like I want her.

“No, still hot,” she says, her chest rising higher than before.

“What about this?” I undo the next button.

“Worse,” she says, squirming under me.

“Hmm, what about this?” I undo the next two buttons. Pause, and then the last few, leaving just the bottom one clasped together. Then, gently, I push the sides of the shirt open just enough to expose her skin but nothing else. “That better?”

She shakes her head. “No.”

“Strange,” I say playfully. “I’d have thought that would do the trick. At least it was a good attempt, right?”

“That’s . . . that’s all you’re going to try?” she asks, the strain in her voice turning me on now. Hell, maybe I didn’t think this all the way through.

“I’m not sure there’s much more to try, other than cooling you down with my fingers.”

“How . . . uh”—she swallows—“how would you do that?” Man, she’s tempting me. Not sure how much I’m going to hold back, not when her voice sounds so desperate.

Moving my fingers to her exposed skin, I start at her sternum and very slowly drag them down past her cleavage, to her stomach, and to her belly button, then back up again.

“Oh . . . Jesus,” she says as I feel her legs spread, one of them knocking into my leg.

“That helping?” I ask.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“What about this?” I lazily draw circles all the way down the center of her body and then back up again.

“Mm-hmm,” she says, her good hand fumbling under the bedcovers, bumping against my bulge.

She goes to grab it, but I stop her. “I don’t need cooling down, just you.” Then I move my fingers under the fabric of the shirt, growing closer to her nipples before pulling away and working my way back down to her belly button, this time passing by it to where the waistband of her underwear would be, but to my fucking surprise, she’s not wearing any.

Hell.

“Beau,” she whispers.

“Huh?” I ask, moving my fingers back up to her sternum.

“You’re making me hotter.”

“Oh . . . should I stop?” I go to remove my hand, but she clamps it back down to her chest.

“Jesus, don’t stop.” Her legs bend and tent the bottom half of the blankets as she wiggles underneath my touch.

“You want me to keep going?” I whisper into her ear.

“Yes, badly.”

“But you’re already a little too vocal. I’m afraid of what will happen if I keep going. Roger’s trying to sleep.”

“I’ll be quiet,” she whispers, moving my hand farther down her stomach, to the last button. “Please, Beau.”

“Begging?” I ask, nibbling on her earlobe.

“Pleading.”

I undo the last button and push the sides of the shirt open.

“Yes,” she whispers.

Keeping my eyes on her face, I lift my hand back up to her chest, where I draw a small figure eight over her breasts, coming closer to her nipples but never touching them.

“You’re going to make me touch myself,” she says.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to that.” I move my nose over her jaw. “I’d love to see you come on your own fingers.”

Her head turns so our noses touch, and we stay like that for a few seconds, the sexual tension building, the moment pulsing between us, the air so goddamn heavy that I feel the need to cut through it just to have access to her beautiful face.

We each take a breath.

She wets her lips.

I wet mine.

And then, she leans in ever so slightly and nips at my lips before pulling away. It’s a cautionary kiss, and it ignites something inside me. I lean in closer and take her lips with mine as my hand moves across her chest and connects entirely with her breast and her pierced nipple.