Page 137 of Bridesmaid By Chance
“Thank you,” he says.
“Thank you for what?” I ask as I feel so freaking comfortable resting on this man.I may not want this to ever end.
“Thank you for understanding me.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that,” I say. “That’s what being married is all about. We understand each other.” I rest my hand on his bare stomach and let my thumb trail over his stacked abs.
He blows out a heavy breath and says, “Careful, any lower and you’re going to turn me on.”
“We wouldn’t want that,” I say as his hand slides up my side, pulling my shirt with it.
“No, we wouldn’t,” he says as his thumb connects with the side of my breast.
I roll my teeth over my lip as my hips move in closer to him. “Do that again and I might straddle you.”
“Can’t have that,” he says. “Maybe you should, uh…roll over, face away from me.”
“Maybe,” I say. “Think it would be better?”
“Yeah.” He lets out a short breath. “I do.”
“Okay.” I push off his chest and then stare down at his handsome face. I glance at his mouth and then back at his nose.
His tongue peeks out, wetting his lips, and I swear with one little movement, he has me panting, wanting more than he’s been willing to give me.
I lower my mouth, mere inches from his face, and I wait a moment to see if he might break, to see if he wet his lips for a reason, but when he doesn’t make a move, I kiss his nose one more time and then turn away from him. He follows my lead, scooting in behind me, and because he yanked my shirt up, he slides his hand over my midsection easily and pulls me into his nice warm body.
“You’re not wearing underwear,” he says.
“No, I’m not.”
“Why not?” he asks, speaking closely to my ear.
“To torture us both.”
“Well, you’re doing a damn good job.”
“Thank you. I will take that compliment with pride.”
He chuckles and smooths his hand up my stomach. “Fuck, Sloane.”
Two words.
Just two words and my entire body lights up.
“You want this, don’t you?”
“More than you fucking know.”
“Then just have me. Please, Hudson.”
I feel him shake his head as his hand glides under my breast. “I can’t.”
“Then you can’t feel me like that. You’re making me wet.”
“How wet?” he asks.
“Really wet.” And then because I can’t stand this push and pull, I move my fingers between my legs, slide them up my slit, then reach up and swipe them across his bottom lip.
