Get a Life, Chloe Brown (The Brown Sisters #1)(56)
But, all things considered, he thought she was bullshitting just a little bit. “Not that I don’t believe your flattering explanation, but are you sure you didn’t watch partly because I was half naked?”
She gasped. “Of course not. Outrageous. As if I would ever. I’m not a pervert, you know!”
“Then why’d you feel guilty?”
Her pretty, pillow mouth formed a perfect O. It was getting so dark he could barely see her, but strips of orange streetlight sliced over her jaw, glinted off her glasses, illuminated her sparkly, skirt-covered lap. Maybe he should take that as some kind of sign. Maybe the universe was telling him to kiss her, take off her glasses, and push up her skirt.
Yeah, right. What had they just said? They were friends. F R I E N D S.
But then she pursed her lips, and sighed, and said with an air of confession, “I suppose you’re right.”
He stilled. Cleared his throat, because it suddenly felt rougher than sandpaper. “Right about what?”
She glared, as if he was being difficult. “You know what you look like.”
You know what you look like. Coming from Chloe, that might as well have been a fucking ode to his attractiveness. And now she narrowed her eyes at him, chin up, as if daring him to have a problem with that.
There was only one problem, really: the fact that they weren’t touching. So he stopped holding back, and his free hand cupped her cheek, cradling that beautiful fucking face. She breathed in sharply, caught her lower lip between her teeth, and he teetered on the edge of a possible mistake. Would she regret him, after tonight? Would she see him as a failed plan, a thing she couldn’t control and wanted nothing to do with? Would she leave him, and everything wonderful growing between them, behind?
He couldn’t let that happen. But he couldn’t let this moment pass, either.
“I’m going to ask you something,” he said softly, studying her face—the V between her eyebrows, the heat in her eyes, the vulnerable flash of pink inside her mouth, revealed by her parted lips. He wanted that mouth. He wanted that vulnerability. “I’m going to ask you, and I don’t want you to worry about anything. Not a fucking thing, Chlo. We’re friends. This doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m not going to make it complicated. Okay?”
He heard her breath hitch slightly as she nodded. “Okay,” she said softly. “Okay. So ask.”
“Should I make you moan again?”
Her answer was so fucking sweet. “Please.”
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
She’d thought he would kiss her. He bit her instead.
The tip of his nose bumped hers, his big hand cradled her jaw, and his teeth grazed her lower lip. Soft and slow. Tugging slightly. She felt that tug right between her thighs, a molten rush. He bit again, harder, and arousal shivered over her skin. Her nipples tightened, as if they were trying to catch his attention like a pair of shameless hussies. She approved. More bites, everywhere. Clearly telepathy wasn’t his strong suit because he didn’t rip off her clothes and devour her, one breast at a time; he licked her lip instead. His tongue swept out to soothe the tingle left behind by those bites, except it didn’t work. That wet slide turned the tingle into a spark, a current, a bolt of lightning. She moaned.
He pulled back, slowly, slowly. “There,” he whispered.
“More,” she told him.
“Know what I’d do with you, if you were in my bed?” His voice was gravel and bittersweet longing. “Kiss you until I couldn’t taste myself anymore. Just fruit tea and too much mouth. Put my hands on every inch of you. So soft, Chlo.” He swept his thumb over her skin. “How do you do that?” His voice cracked as if she’d ruined his life by moisturizing after she showered. He shook his head and laughed, apparently at himself. “I want to make you cry. I bet you get like that, don’t you? When it’s too much. When it feels too good.”
She’d been wrong about his lack of telepathy. He was an excellent mind reader. “Maybe. Sometimes.”
He groaned. The thumb stroking her cheek moved lower, parting her lips. She bit him back. He swallowed so hard she heard it. She sucked his thumb into her mouth. He groaned again. Then he ruined everything. “Tell me why you stopped me. Before.”
She hesitated, uncertainty draining most of her pleasure. She couldn’t tell him, not without revealing too much of herself. What was she supposed to say? That she already liked him far too much? That he made it too easy to be intimate, to be honest, to be weak in a way that felt so good but also left her open to so much hurt?
She didn’t want to have that conversation, to admit how she’d worried then, or how she wanted him too badly to worry now. She could see how easy it would be to fall for this man. She could see the phantoms of all the feelings she could develop for him, like premonitions. And she could see him throwing those feelings in her face, the way people always did.
Her body was vulnerable enough without her heart following suit.
So she reminded him gently, “You said you wouldn’t make this complicated.” Please don’t make this complicated. I really want to put my mouth on you.
He gave her a rueful smile and murmured, “I did, didn’t I?”
“Your rules, Mr. Morgan. Please abide by them.”
As she’d hoped, her crisp, mocking tones widened his smile. “Shut up. Come here.” Her stomach dipped as he lifted her, then put her between his spread thighs. Her back was against his chest. He leaned against the stone pillar of the monument they were absolutely not about to defile. From his position behind her, he murmured in her ear, “Comfortable?” His breath shivered over her skin. She felt his voice rumble in his chest, pleasure zipping down her spine.