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201 pages, Unknown Binding
First published July 23, 2015
He wrapped his long arm around my shoulder and pulled me close. I felt myself tense slightly, being so close to him, but as he threaded his fingers through mine, I leaned into the intimacy of being his couch buddy.
The movie began and, as conscious as I was of Jackson’s presence, I surprised myself by laughing out loud –a lot. When Ryan said, “Hey, I’d do her. Hell, I’d probably even pay,” I rolled giggling toward Jackson’s chest, breathing in the scent of his skin.
What are you doing? He’s not your boyfriend! But whatever logic my brain tried to toss at me, being beside Jackson, watching a movie and dipping chips in guacamole just felt right.
We downed the bottle of wine between us, with the balance just slightly in my favor. I hadn’t eaten since Thai the night before, and the alcohol seeped into every cell of my body, loosening my wound-up state.
As the movie rolled past the hour mark, Jackson’s fingers began to explore my skin. He ran his hands along the back of my shoulders, my flesh exploding in goose bumps wherever he touched. I let my own fingers fall on his leg, scraping my nails across the grain of his jeans.
When he slid his hand inside my shirt, I moaned quietly, aching for him to touch me in the places that count. He cupped the side of my breast, lifting the weight, stroking the underside with delicate caresses. I responded by working my hand higher, brushing against the firm rod now pressing tightly against the denim.
We didn’t look at each other, or acknowledge what our respective hands were up to; it was somehow hotter to simply stare at the screen and let our bodies communicate on their own.
When Jackson’s fingers finally closed over my nipple, I sucked in a fast lungful of air, my chest rising to meet his hand. With an expert technique, he rolled the tender bud around, squeezing it in short bursts until it thrummed and hardened. Pleasure and heat began to radiate from my tortured left breast down to my core, which was damp and growing damper.
Just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, Jackson switched hands and nipples, lavishing attention on the other breast, which had been screaming for its turn. I closed my eyes, the movie forgotten as the credits rolled.
With a sharp yank on both nipples, Jackson brought me back to myself. I squeaked, coming upright on the couch.
“Ready for bed?”he asked, his eyes cloudy with desire.
“Yes,”I breathed. I was ready for anything he asked. I’m not exaggerating –if Jackson had produced a cucumber or a webcam or the entire Queensland State of Origin team, I would still have said yes.
"Seriously! You, me, sex?" I pointed to each of us, then performed an embarrassing mime. It was meant to be the two of us, entangled in a hot embrace. Instead, it looked more like I was channeling mating hippos. So smooth, Cat."