Page 38 of Every Time We Touch

“That you’re alive,” Jen continues. “And exist.” Her fingers travel down my rib cage. “With this ridiculously hot body.” Her hand comes up and cups my breast. “How am I supposed to resist that? Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve had sex?”

“It’s all down to my body,” I play along. It’s easier than talking about other things—like that huge elephant in the room. “Good to know.”

“What’s your excuse?” Jen asks.

“I don’t need an excuse.” I push myself into her hand. “When a chick I like offers me one night of…” I leave the sentence open.

“A chick you like?” Jen’s even more beautiful when she chuckles like that. “That’s what I am?”

“Yeah.” I already want to kiss her again, have my way with her again—push my fingers high inside her and see what her face looks like when I do. But lying here with her is a delight as well, because it beats the agony of teaching her to dance and not being able to touch her how I wanted to.

“Well, I like muscle chicks, so I also got what I wanted,” Jen says.

“The dorky app developer likes muscle chicks.” I send her a grin. “Who would have thought?”

Jen pretends to push me away. “I can’t believe you just called me dorky.”

I scrunch my lips together. “I’ll take my punishment in kisses.”

“Since when are kisses a punishment?” Jen asks, but I don’t let her continue, nor do I reply—because what could I say? They are a punishment if they’re finite in time and you want to kiss forever.

I slide on top of her and while I kiss her, reach for her hands. I curl my fingers around her wrists and pin them above her head.

I kiss my way from her lips to her ear. “I think I’ll punish you,” I whisper, “for having the audacity to send that text.” I sink my teeth into her earlobe. “For barging in here like that and having your wicked way with me.” I plant a kiss just below her ear. “And for then boldly claiming it’s all my fault.” I look her in the eye. “You’ve got to admit, Jen. That deserves some punishment.”

Breathless, she just nods. I’m going to have so much fun with her.

“Keep your hands here,” I say. “The first part of your punishment is that you can’t touch me until I say that you can.”

Her eyes go wide. “That’s not punishment. That’s torture.”

“I know.” I flex my arms for her so my biceps bulge. “All this muscle you’re not allowed to touch.” I push myself up until I sit astride her, then run my fingertips over her chest.

“What happens if I touch you anyway?” She lowers her hands from the position I left them in.

I quirk up an eyebrow. “Do you really want to find out?” I suck my lower lip between my teeth.

“Fuck yeah.” Jen brings her hands to my thighs, her fingertips digging in. “Because the punishment does not fit the crime.”

I reach for her wrists and, with great reluctance, peel her hands off my thighs—because I want nothing more than her all over me. But that can wait until later. I want to play with her a little first. See how far I can push her. She’s so deliciously feisty.

I pin her hands above her head again and look her in the eye. “Do I really need to break out my handcuffs?”

“I don’t think you have much choice.” She grins up at me.

I shake my head. “I don’t think you have much choice.” I push her hands into the pillow, then bring my hands to my breasts. “If you want more of this.”

“How can I have more if I can’t touch—” I don’t let her finish but, instead, lean toward her and bring my nipple to her lips. She closes her mouth around me and my clit throbs wildly in response.

I glance down at her, at her lips all over me, and say, “In return.” Aah. Her tongue on my nipple is almost too much. “I’ll give you the climax of your life.” I try to inject some authority into my voice, but it’s not easy when I have my nipple in her hot, soft mouth. I shift backward, so my nipple falls from between her lips. Jen looks as breathless, as revved up, as I feel.

She has no more quips, no more wisecracks, because there’s a time for those, but now it’s time for this.

Chapter 21

Jen

Clancy Estevez is the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen—and most definitely the most gorgeous woman who has ever straddled me like this—and I can’t touch her. I could. All I have to do is move my hands, but I don’t want to. In this instance, it’s my choice not to want to. She has me right where she wants me—at her glorious mercy.