Page 44 of Miss Behaved
Monica stands up and comes toward me, each step palpable. The air in the room thumps with my heartbeat the closer she gets. She stops inches away. One lean, and I’d feel the brush of her budded tits through the thin fabric of her dress.
“You said that you were here for me.” She reaches up and traces her fingers up my arm, circling the mound of my bicep. Her tongue slides between her lips, and I’m not sure how I don’t explode.
“I am here for you,” I manage to get out between breaths.
Monica’s nails rake over my skin, and her eyes meet mine. “I think your exact words weretherapeutic sexual awakening.”
My jaw drops, and I’m pretty sure my heart tries to climb out of it. “You’re saying—” I slap my mouth shut and nod my head slowly. She mimics me.
“Yes.”
That word pulls my body closer. Now there’s a fraction of space between us, and I’m begging to close it.
“You’re sure?” I ask.
Excitement, fear, and hesitation battle in my chest. As much as my body is aching to be inside her, she isn’t just some girl you fuck. She’sthegirl. And she’s already made it clear that all she wants is to get me out of her system.
“We have history,” Monica says, her breaths sharp and uneven. “That could make this complicated.”
I nod, wanting to argue, but she’s right and I know it.
“But I trust you with this.” Her voice cracks like it hurt her to say that.
With this.
Conditional. She trusts me with casual, uncomplicated sex.
Not me, Carson.
Her body shifts and closes the breath of space between us. This is when I should put on the brakes. Sit her down and help her realize this is more than a physical connection. That I want more from her than sex, even if it’s fucking terrifying.
“I want you.” She looks up at me, her eyes lit with desire. And I lose the battle.
I reach down and cradle her chin in my hand, my thumb tracing one side of her jaw and my fingers holding the other.
You’re beautiful.
You’re perfect.
I’m still in love with you.
All words on the tip of my tongue. But I lower my mouth an inch from hers, and instead I say, “Anything you want, Mon,” as I close the gap and inhale the sharp breath that escapes on contact.
I’ll be your anything.
18
Monica
ItoldmyselfIwas knocking on Carson’s door to talk about how the kiss was a mistake. A hit of adrenaline to take the edge off. But when he opened the door with bedhead and a thick bulge fighting against his jeans, any composure I had melted. I didn’t care if it was a bad decision anymore. I needed him.
Carson closing the gap between us is the final match in the vat of gasoline. His tongue slips into my mouth and lights the need for him to devour me. I arch my hips into him, and the hard length in his jeans grinds against my stomach. His body is familiar, while also entirely different than I remember.
I swallow a moan as Carson’s hands slip under the hem of my sundress to grab my ass, pulling me off my feet as I wrap my legs around him, my hips circling, begging to feel his rock-hard dick. He presses forward, and I lock my legs tighter in response. My dress is up around my waist, and I feel every inch of him through the thin lace of my underwear.
The reserved romantic in me melts away, my hesitation along with it. I don’t want to hold back, or regret, or think.
I want Carson to fuck me.
