Page 124 of Bridesmaid By Chance
The smallest of grins turns up the corners of his lips but is quicklywashed away when he looks down at his lap. “I…I shouldn’t have done that last night. I’m sorry.”
“God, please don’t with the morning after apology. Nothing hurts worse than an apology after an orgasm.”
“I’m serious, Sloane. That never should have happened.”
“I hear you loud and clear,” I say. “And yet I’m glad it did happen.”
“I’m not,” he says softly, then leans back against the couch, blowing out a heavy breath. “Fuck, I’m getting distracted. I honestly can’t even remember why I’m out here, why I’m doing this. All I can think about is you.”
“I’m flattered.” I press my hand to my chest. I know he’s feeling slightly tortured at the moment, but I like seeing him not bent over his phone. I like hearing him speak to me, telling me about his feelings. “Thank you. It’s not very often you hear of someone constantly thinking about you. Now, in your thoughts, am I bent over a lot?”
“Sloane,” he grumbles. “I’m being fucking serious.”
“So am I. A girl wants to know what positions you’re drawn to. More than that, a wife wants to know what her husband loves sexually.”
He slides his hand over my hip as he looks me in the eyes. “You’re torturing me, Sloane. Fucking torturing me. Last night should have never happened, you and I both know that.”
“And yet you came all over my stomach and claimed me as yours.” I tap my chin. “Seems like you kind of wanted it to happen.”
“Why are you making this hard?”
“Because I like it when you’re hard.”
He drags his hand over his face. “This is why age gap doesn’t work.”
“Mm, or is this why it does?”
“Christ.” He starts to get up, but I push on his chest.
Easing up on him, I say, “How about this? Last night was amazing, I fucking loved every second of it, and even though I want so much more, I won’t ask for it. The next move is on you.”
“There won’t be a next move.”
I shrug. “Okay, if that’s what you choose, then that’s okay with me.” I stand up and head toward the bedroom. “I’m going to get dressed.” Since I took a quick shower already this morning, I slip out of my shorts and shirt and then reach for my underwear, where I find the ice-blue sets Hudson got for me.
Smiling to myself, I slip them on, adjust the cups of the bra, and then with all the confidence in the world, I walk out into the living room where Hudson is typing on his phone. I lean against the doorjamb and ask, “Anything in particular you want me to wear to tea?”
He looks up from his phone to answer, only to take in what I’m wearing. His expression immediately morphs into hunger, and a rush of female satisfaction pulses through me. Because I did that. In a matter of seconds, I was able to change his mood.
He tosses his phone to the couch and walks up to me. I continue to lean against the doorway as he closes the space. He places his forearm above my head and leans forward, his other hand landing on my hip. “Why are you fucking with me?” he says in a tortured voice.
“You claimed me; therefore, I wear what you want.”
“Fuck,” he says as his finger traces the waistband of my thong. “This looks so fucking good on you.”
“I’m glad you like it,” I say. “Anything for my husband.”
His finger trails up my stomach, the sensation turning me on immediately. When he reaches my breasts, he traces the lace for a few seconds but then drops his hand, only for his eyes to meet mine.
“You need to wear a dress and a hat for tea.”
“Okay, anything else? Do you want to pick it?”
He shakes his head. “Surprise me.”
“That I can do.” And then because I can, I lift up on my toes and kiss him on the nose. When I pull away, his eyes meet mine again, but he doesn’t move. He stays there. “Anything else I can help you with?”
His eyes flit down to my mouth and then back up to my eyes. His head moves in even closer, our foreheads touching now.
