Page 105 of Just Watch Me
“They’ll think you’re … abducting me,” she managed to say, her head whirling a bit as he rounded corners, because he was practically running.
“No, they won’t,” he said, not out of breath a bit. “They’ll think I’m carrying you to bed.” A door, and he was juggling her, then opening it. Her arms were around his neck, because how could they not be? She’d never been carried like this in her life, or not since she was very small. Not since she remembered. She had her face turned into his neck, was kissing him there, because he’d shaved after the match. For her? How she wanted to think so.
He said, “Door. Bugger.” Not sounding quite as controlled as he had before. She prepared to be set on her feet, but instead, he was tossing her over his shoulder. She landed with an“Oof!”and said,“Zane.”
“One sec.” Some juggling, and she heard the click of the lock. He was pushing through, and the second the door closed behind him, he had his hand on her bum. Which he could feel, because the couch-fabric wasn’t actually couch fabric, but some kind of silky stuff. Which meant she could feel that hand just fine, even over the blood that had long since rushedto her head. It was also dark in here, because he hadn’t turned on the light.
“You have the most gorgeous arse,” he told her, stroking it some more. “That day in your classroom …”
“Uh … what? With—with Georgia?” It was getting a bit hard to talk. That was because his hand wasinsidethe trousers now—jeans wouldn’t have had an elastic waist, would they?—and encountering … well, bare flesh.
“Oh, bloody hell,” he said.
“The first day in my—” She sucked in a breath, because his hand was diving now. “What?”
“Your voice,” he said. “And this arse. You were wearing trousers, and you turned around and bent over. Getting out that puzzle. I wanted to put my hands on you.”
“You could …” It was a little hard to get the words out. Possibly because she’d been upside down so long. “Turn me right-side up while you do it.”
“Oh. Whoops.” The world tilted, her head swam, and he was holding her in his arms again. “Felt too good, that’s all. And, sorry, but I need to see what’s under here.” He set her on her feet at last, and she was glad, but she was sorry.
She would have turned to face him, but his hands were on her shoulders again. Gentle now, sliding down her arms and back up them again. His lips at her temple, his hands on her upper arms, holding her. She was shuddering, and then his hands were in her hair, searching, finding the clips and undoing them. Her hair brushed against her skin as it fell to her shoulders, and she felt even that, as if somebody had lit up her body.
His lips at her neck, his hand taking the shirt and pulling it up. “Lift your arms,” he said, and she did, and the top was gone.
Thenhewas gone, and she turned, searching for him. Some swearing, and then a click. The bedside light, and shecould see him. Big, bruised, tough, and unsmiling. Looking like every dark fantasy she’d ever had.
He wasn’t looking at her, though. Or more specifically, he wasn’t looking at her face.
“That the new one?” he asked.
“Uh … yes.” Everything in her wanted to cross her hands over her chest. The bra was, well …obvious.Lace, balconette, unlined, and pale green. Too skimpy a style for her breasts, and yet here they were.
“Bloody hell,” he said. “Wait, though.” A step closer, his hands under the elastic of the terrible trousers, and they were falling down her legs. “Step out,” he said, and she did. And he sighed.
“My shoes,” she said, because she had to say something.
“Yeh,” he said. “Yeh. They’re nice, too. We’ll leave those on for a bit, eh.”
Oh, she felt stupid. He was fully dressed, and she was standing here in a skimpy lace bra, matching Brazilian-cut panties, and black heels with ankle straps. “I should …” she began, then had no idea how to go on.
His face softened, and he came closer. His hand under her chin, fingers stroking along her throat. A vulnerable position, and her heart was pounding again. “You don’t have to do anything,” he said. “You don’t have to know anything, not tonight. Tonight is for letting me please you. Letting me give you a better time. But first …” His hands on her shoulders again, and he was turning her around. And sighing again.
“Come over here,” he said. “Let me show you what you look like.”
Oh. The mirror. She said, “I don’t really want to look at my—”My thighs,she wanted to say.
“Don’t you see,” he said, “that you’re beautiful? Stand there. Let me show you.”
He did. His hands stroking over her shoulders as shewatched. Big, scarred, strong hands, so much darker than her pale skin. Gliding over her sides, then coming up to cup her breasts in the green bra. His eyes holding hers in the mirror, and his hands reaching inside. Gentle, still. Caressing her breasts, pinching her nipples. Greedy for her, but holding back.
“Yeh,” he said, when her head went back onto his shoulder and her eyes wanted to close. “Yeh. That’s what you are.”
A jolt, then, because his hand was sliding down her body. Over her ribs, her belly. Going inside that tiny panty, and touching her again. She knew she was wet, and that he was feeling all of it, but how could you … how could you …
She was stiffening, panting. He said, “Shit.” Softly, and then he’d flicked the clasp of her bra and it was falling down her arms. “Open your eyes,” he said. “Watch this.”
She’d seen her body in mirrors all her life. She’d never seen it like this. One of his hands on her breast, pinching a nipple again, and his other hand inside that triangle of lace.
