Page 112 of Fighting Chance

Layla and this list are far outweighing any fantasy I ever conjured up.

“Describe it to me.”

She gets this faraway look, her cheeks remaining rosy. “Anything that is public. The sheer thought of getting caught sets my body on fire. I don’t want anyone to actually see me but?—”

“You like the idea, the risk behind getting caught and the knowledge that you shouldn’t be doing it.”

Her cheeks flame as she nods.

Now I understand the constant glances behind me. She’s looking at the large windows lining the front wall, the ones that show a clear view of the parking lot.

The very deserted, very dark parking lot.

All the restaurants that are open near here are on the other side of the shopping center, and even though I’m wrapped up in everything Layla is saying, I haven’t spotted anyone walk past. Where we’re sitting is even at the back of the store, only a sliver of the reading nook visible from the street.

My cock twitches painfully at the idea that comes to mind.

Peering back over my shoulder to make sure no one is outside, I glance down at my watch to see we’ve still got this place all to ourselves for some time.

Sliding closer, I place my arm over the back of the couch, cocooning Layla into my side.

Her eyes slide to mine, confusion swirling as she asks, “What are you doing?”

Watching her face intently so I can spot if she gives any hintshe doesn’t like something, I lay my left hand on her knee. I lower my head, sheltering her from the street so if anyone did walk past all they’d see is me sitting on the couch.

Trailing small circles on her knee, I watch as she licks her lips. “What do you feel when I touch you?”

Her eyes widen to saucers, darting behind my shoulder then to my hand on her knee before finally moving back to my face. “Now?” she squeaks.

“Mm-hmm,” I murmur.

Her chest rises and falls rapidly, her legs squeezing together.

She’s turned on.

She doesn’t answer me, her shyness stealing her tongue as I flatten my palm on her knee, gently brushing my rough calloused hand up her leg. The movement steals her breath.

Dropping my head so I’m only an inch away from her lips I ask, “How does it make you feel?”

“Hot,” she breathes. “Needy.”

Our eyes collide—mine the deepest blue of the ocean, hers the shore of the tropics. My hand drifts just that little bit higher, her dress bunching around my wrist as I tease her thigh.

“Do you want me to touch you?” I ask.

She lifts her chin a fraction, the movement making our lips unexpectedly brush against one another. The spark that races down my spine has me squeezing her thigh as a deep growl hits the back of my throat.

To my utter delight, she parts her legs a fraction, giving me space to climb higher. “Yes,” she whispers, her hot breath across my face.

If Layla reached out and stroked me right now, I’d come in my pants.

I’ve never been so turned on in my life and I haven’t touched her, let alone even kissed her yet.

“You’re not as innocent as people think, are you, sunshine?”

Layla shakes her head, our lips brushing again as I move my hand higher. She leans forward, urging my hand to continue, but I keep us suspended as I torment and tease her.

“How badly do you want my fingers on your clit?”