Page 43 of Secret Baby for My Brother's Best Friends

And he was watching me that first night, noting my awkwardness...

I didn't think anyone had noticed me.

But apparently he had. And he'd liked me enough to overthink his approach and decide against talking to me in the first place because he didn't think I would speak to him.

This is an odd situation for me.

Usually it’s the other way round. With all the men I’ve dated, not that there have been that many, but usually with the guys that I've been with, I always felt like I liked them just a little more than they liked me. Even with Eric, I was the one who made constant effort in our relationship, and even though I thought he liked me in his own way, I always just assumed I was the more affectionate one and that I was aiming out of my league with him. Part of that was confirmed when he cheated on me.

And now...

The desire in Sam's eyes, the blatant wanting. It soothes years of hurt that had been building up over a lifetime.

It soothes the distinct pang caused by the infidelity.

And when his lips touch mine, I can’t stop.

And apparently neither can he.

He devours my mouth, shifting closer to me, his hand on the back of my head. Yet, while commanding, his touch is gentle, giving me every space to pull away, his tongue coaxing as much as it demands.

I don't need much persuasion. I'm as lost in the kiss as he is, desire reverberating through my body, my skin flushing hot, desperately wanting more.

Before I know it, I'm being lifted out of my seat and over the console, onto his lap.

His body moves against me as I move my hands around his neck, holding on.

“Chelsea," he whispers against my neck, before running his lips down my skin. “Fuck Chelsea.” His hardness is pushing against my thigh, letting me know how much he wants me. And God, I want him too. I’ve been damp just thinking about him, about all of them, and though they've toned down the flirting, just being surrounded by them all afternoon has been torture.

I've had dreams about that night, every aspect of it.

Now I’m feeling it again, and it hits just as hard as the first time. Maybe even worse, because now I know what's at the other end, I know the pure ecstasy I'm going to experience in his hands.

I know where each gentle touch is leading, the heat that expands just from a single brush of his hand as it slides up my abdomen. I move, mewling and encouraging it higher until it finally cups my breast. He’s so gentle with it. He doesn’t squeeze it, only holds it, almost reverently, worshipfully, as he molds it in his hand. I gasp when his thumb finds my nipple with ease, even though my mind falters.

As he moves it in slow circles, it rips a strangled moan from my chest. His kisses get even slower.

“I want to savor this,” he says. “I don’t want to rush it like last time.”

Last time was rushing?

I remember it being almost torturously slow, the way each man took his time exploring my body and driving me to the peak. If that was rushed, then what kind of torment awaits me this time?

“Oh my God, Sam." In one fluid movement, he undulates, and his cock hitches against my clit.

I’m melting into him, my brain turning into mush. I should protest, but as the desire spikes through my body, all I know is that I want to come.

I move above him restlessly, wanting more of that pressure, but he doesn’t give it to me. As a matter of fact, he does the opposite. He lifts his leg slightly, shifting me away from his cock. When I groan a protest, he fits his lips back against mine, his fingers plucking my nipple at a maddening cadence.

I’m drowning in his taste, in the feel of him. He slowly drifts his hand down my body, between my legs.Yes. The gasp echoes in my head. I want more. I open for him as he slides my skirt up, thankful that I thought to wear this instead of the pantsuit, so he has easy access. And when he pushes underneath my panties, and his hand touches my slit, I feel like screaming.

“Please,” I say.

“Please, what?"

“Stop teasing me.”

“But I love teasing you," he says. “I love your reactions, baby." He slides his finger up my thigh, playing with the wetness that has dripped there. "I love how wet you get.”