Page 24 of Edging Desire

“Yeah, I had a meeting there. I think you know Monica? She’s a realtor in town.”

“Of course, I know Monica. Didn’t you two date at one time? What were you meeting about?” I hear the sharp edge of my question, and I wince. I don’t want to come off as accusatory, but he’s acting a bit cagey.

“Well, yeah, we dated before you and I dated. It was so long ago.”

“So, you just happened to run into her?”

His eyes narrow at my sharp tone. “Wait. Are you jealous that I was meeting with Monica?” His voice raises with incredulity.

“Of course not! I was just curious. I didn’t think you two talked anymore.”

He looks at me smugly. “I’m not gonna lie. Seeing you jealous makes me the tiniest bit happy. I like this look on you. But don’t worry. I have zero interest in Monica. Less than zero. It was a business meeting, that’s all. My boss set it up.”

I feel myself relaxing. I hear the truth in his words, and I suddenly feel silly for even thinking there might be something there. Besides, if something were going on between them, they probably wouldn’t announce it by having coffee out in public. News in our small town spreads faster than seems possible.

“What kind of business could you possibly have with Monica?”

That strange look crosses his face again. “Unfortunately, it’s confidential. My boss is having me broker a deal in town, and I am prohibited from telling anyone about it. Even you. I’m sorry. I promise the meeting with Monica was purely business.”

“Good.”

“Good? So, you believe me?”

I smile at him and realize, yes, I do believe him. Fully. It makes sense that he can’t discuss his business dealings with me. Now I understand why my questions made him uncomfortable. He probably doesn’t like me asking things he isn’t allowed to answer.

“Yes, I believe you. If you’re done eating, would you like to watch a movie? I have one picked out for us.”

“Sure.”

Brad surprised me by getting up and clearing the dishes from the table. Then, he started the dishwasher without me asking. When I comment on it, he tells me I cooked, so it’s only fair he does his part.

Now that the cleaning is done, we settle down on the couch and start a romantic comedy on the television. Brad puts his arm around me, and I snuggle close to him. I tuck my feet up under my butt, and my head is resting on his chest.

Thirty minutes into the movie, the wine starts to influence me, and I feel myself begin to drift off.

Brad has other ideas.

Just as I feel myself about to fall asleep, Brad’s hand moves under my shirt, and he begins to touch my side. When his fingertips brush the bottom of my breast, I almost jump. I fight to remain still because I want his hands to continue. The sleepiness recedes and leaves behind a feeling of yearning.

His other hand moves to my bare thigh. My skirt had already ridden up, but now he pushes it higher. He’s rubbing and caressing my leg and thigh while steadily moving higher and higher. I’m silently begging him to touch me. As though answering my silent pleas, his fingers glide over to my stomach and then lower.

He inhales sharply. “Where the hell are your panties?”

“I took them off,” I whisper.

A whimper escapes my throat when his fingers slide into me. “You took them off? I bet you wanted my finger in you this whole time, didn’t you?”

I clench as he removes his finger and starts circling my sensitive clit.

I shake my head. “No.”

“No? You don’t want my finger in you?” He pushes his finger in again while his thumb continues to stroke my clit. I writhe in complete abandon against his hand. “Ahh, I know. You want something else instead, don’t you?”

“Yessss,” I hiss through clenched teeth.

My hand goes to the button on his jeans, then the zipper. I struggle against his clothing to wrap my hand around his straining cock. My frustrated fingers itch to touch him, to feel him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he grits out.