Easy Love: A Modern Romance by Piper Lawson

Author:Piper Lawson [Lawson, Piper]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2019-04-09T18:30:00+00:00

15

Rena

I’ve always known what’s happening in life. It’s made me feel in control of situations I found later I had no control over.

I can pretend to be in control with my parents in a civilized war.

I can’t pretend I’m in control when Wes’s hips are spreading my thighs, the top button on his shirt undone, his tie hanging crooked around his tight neck.

Not when that cut jaw twitches, his hair falling carelessly over his face. When he looks at me as if I’m the only thing worth looking at in the entire building. The entire city.

I shiver. Even though it’s not cold, goose bumps rise on my arms and legs as he strokes my skin under my skirt.

Higher.

His nose grazes the side of my neck, and I shudder a breath.

Because hell.

I don’t know if Wes can fix what’s swirling inside me, but I’m terrified to let him try.

“Is this what you want?” His voice is barely audible, but his lips brush the shell of my ear.

As if in answer, my hands reach for his shirt.

His mouth trails down my jaw, my neck. I pull myself toward him until I’m nearly off the counter, his hips pressing against my center.

He pulls back an inch so I can look in those heavy blue eyes.

No. I don’t want this, and I want it more than I’ve ever wanted anything. It’s been the day from hell, and Wes’s touch, his attention, is the best possible balm.

I look frantically between his gaze and his mouth as if one of them holds the answer I’m looking for.

Maybe they both do.

I want him to kiss me the way he did at the party but with no one watching. I want to pour all of myself into him.

“Yes,” I whisper.

His fingers brush me through the thin fabric. I’m wet, I know it without hearing his tight curse.

His touch slips under the fabric, and I hiccup a breath as my fingers find his biceps, digging in.

I tilt my face up, needing him, needing his lips on mine, but he evades me.

I’d expected to find comfort in his touch, but it’s the opposite. His fingers slide up over my clit, tracing maddening circles.

Then he presses a finger inside me.

My lips find his neck, and I moan against the hot skin of his throat, the heavy beat of his pulse.

“It’s not enough,” I murmur.

I want him harder, faster.

His fingers stop. I pray for their return, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, Wes yanks up the hem of my skirt with an impatience that steals my breath.

I’d meant that I needed release, but he read it as something else. And now…

He bends down, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh.

Oh my God.

All I can feel is the brush of Wes’s blunt fingers, tracing a path toward where I’m dying a slow death.

I’m hot all over, and when he shifts, pulling my panties aside and grazing me with his thumb, the buzzing inside me is replaced by a roaring fire.

I arch against his touch, panting encouragement.

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