The Trade(64)

We joked about shrimp cocktails looking like monster fingers in a bowl, we shared funny stories about our siblings—the amount of times Jason has lost his pants during practice is shocking—and we talked more about our dream vacations. Including the Amalfi Coast and my African safari, Natalie really wants to visit Brazil and immerse herself in the Latin American culture. The entire time she was talking about it, I kept thinking how much I want to make that happen for her. Take her to all these cities she talks about. Take her to a pub in Ireland so she can sing old Irish songs. Take her to France so she can take the stereotypical pose in front of the Eiffel Tower. Take her to Israel and get lost in the streets. I want to do it all, and yet, I feel like it’s such a fantasy, a dream that will never come true. Well, at least, not with me. Natalie will probably meet a man . . . someone like Nicholas . . . and he’ll sweep her off her feet and take her to all the places she’s dreamed about. And me? I’ll watch from the sidelines, because I’m still not sure I’ll find someone like her. She’s . . . unique. Exceptional. Fuck, I hate doing the right thing sometimes.

The door to the bathroom opens and my eyes look up to find Natalie fixing her hair into a bun, wearing that godforsaken nightgown again. With the lift of her arms, the hem of the gown rides just below her ass, showing me the long expanse of her legs and a peek at where her thigh meets her butt cheeks.

Hell, let the hardening of my dick begin.

Besides Natalie’s smile, her ass is my second favorite thing. Not that I check out Jason by any means, but he also has a butt that grabs attention. He likes to claim he has the best butt in baseball. Not sure about that, but I can tell you this: great butts run in the family, and Natalie’s is fucking perfect. Round, with plenty to grab on to. And what I have come to realize is her bathing suits aren’t actually supposed to show her butt. However, due to her voluptuous ass, it’s hard to cover up. Fine by me. I’ve enjoyed the view all week.

“Okay, ready?” she asks, skipping over to me, her uncontained breasts bouncing in her nightgown.

Christ, this woman.

“Yup,” I say on a choked gasp.

She slides under the covers and this time, she has no problem coming up to me, draping my arm over her shoulder, and snuggling in close. She lotioned while she was in the bathroom. I can smell the sweet scent. I can also smell the mint of her toothpaste and also something subtle, something I haven’t smelled this close before, maybe . . . a spritz of perfume? I can’t be sure, but whatever it is, it’s making me fucking dizzy.

“Are you loving it so far?” she asks when the show starts.

I settle in for a long night of blue balls, but at least she’s in my arms. “I am.”

“Think you’ll continue watching it when you get home?”

“I mean, I have to see if Jim and Pam end up together. The sexual tension is building between them. I can feel it.”

Just like it’s building between us.

She laughs and says, “Just wait and see.” She settles in close and rests one of her hands on my chest, her palm branding my skin, searing, igniting, claiming me as hers.

Her breath plays against my warmed pec and her legs slide against mine. I try to relax, not feel as stiff as I usually do, and then I casually draw my finger over her shoulder, loving how the gentle move makes her shift against me. It’s small contact, a whisper of a touch, but it’s intoxicating. I couldn’t make myself stop even if I was threatened. I don’t get much with this girl, so I’ll take everything I can get.

“Kevin is such an idiot,” she mumbles, her hand sliding down my chest a few inches. “Don’t you think?” She glances up at me while her hand slips to the top of my abs.

I swallow hard and nod. “Yeah, idiot,” I say almost incoherently.

“He totally makes the show though.” And then, she runs the tips of her fingers over the top ridges of my abs. My dick thinks it’s time to party. It grows harder with every pass of her fingers, every light graze that lights up my skin, brings awareness to the lower half of my torso.

Fuck, it feels good, especially when she moves lower.

And then lower.

And then when she reaches my waistband, I swear I sway. My breath catching in my chest, the only sound audible my rapid heartbeat. I don’t want a fucking fling with her, I want so much more, but if she touches my cock, if her hand slips under the waistband of my shorts, I’m not sure I’ll be able to hold back.

Her fingers graze my shorts. One pass.

Two.

Three.

I bite on my bottom lip to keep myself from groaning and just when I think she might slip under the fabric, she drags her fingers back up my abs.

Ahhh . . . fuck.

I squeeze my eyes shut as my dick aches, hard as a rock, begging to be released. I feel my grip on her tighten, the tension in my shoulders coiling, while yearning forms at the base of my cock.

Fuck, I need relief. So. Goddamn. Bad.

I don’t even know what’s happening on the TV. I don’t care. All focus is on the light drag of her nails over my skin, the hot breath against my chest, and the little gulp of her throat.

Her hand travels back down my stomach again, and this time, she goes lower, all the way to my waistband where she slips her fingers under. I swear it’s no more than half an inch. She moves her fingers back and forth, playing with the spot right above my cock, which is off to the side right now thanks to my shorts.