Page 33 of Net and Chill
“Take off your shirt.”
“Dude. Seriously. You can’t have sex yet. Doctor’s orders. You can’t even get aroused.”
“Tell that to my dick.”
“I mean, you shouldn’t get aroused,” she says. “I asked Penny if it would be bad if the blood rushes from your head to your dick. She laughed at me and said that’s not really how it works, but the heart-rate and blood-pressure elevation that will happen if you get an erection—even if you don’t move—would be bad.”
“Fuck that. She doesn’t know how tough I am. Take it off.”
“Craig. I think I should leave the room.”
“Bridget. Don’t make me say it.”
“What?”
I’m gonna say it. I’m gonna say it for the tits.“I was thinking about you when it happened.”
“Wow. You’re playing the guilt card. To get me to take my shirt off.”
“I said what I said.”
She shakes her head. She’s thinking about it. It’s coming off.
“Open the curtains.”
“No. Dim light for another twenty-four hours.”
“Shirt off. Now.” I slam my hand down. “Please. Baby, please. It hurts because I can’t have you. Please.”
Bridget sighs. So much sighing. “No touching.”
“Fine. Off.Please.”
She lifts her T-shirt. It’s coming off. There it is. The stomach. The tits. The shoulders. The arms covering the tits.
“Noooooo!”
“Calm down,” she says. “Take a slow, deep breath.”
I do that. I take a slow, deep breath. I am calm. I am calm now. “Tits. Now.”
“Don’t touch yourself.”
I move my hands to my sides. So fucking beautiful. “Show me.”
There isn’t a lot of light, but I can see. I don’t need light to know she’s smirking. One hand off. Then back on. Then the other hand off.
“Teasing hurts. Show me.”
She shows me. She holds her tits. Moves her hips. So hot.
“Fuuuuuuuck!”
She puts her shirt back on. “Sorry, sorry!”
“It doesn’t hurt!” I say.
“That’s not what it sounds like to me!”
