Oh yes, this was good. This was very good. She needed to be against him. It was the craziest urge, but she wanted to feel skin and heat, the weight of him on her, and as many inches of him against as many inches of her as possible.
Jordan linked her ankles at his lower back and lifted her hips trying to get the front of her thong against the front of his nerdy-hot-teacher khakis. She ran her hands up and down his back and happily returned his hungry kisses.
After a few long moments, he shifted, one big hand running down her side to her hip. He squeezed then lifted her as he ground into her. The pressure against her clit was delicious. But she needed more.
“Fletcher,” she breathed against his mouth.
His hand ran up her side, dragging the pink silk of her tank with it. His palm covered her left breast, his thumb teasing the hard tip, plucking and rolling until she whimpered.
“Fuck.” He lifted his head and stared down at her, breathing hard. Then his gaze dropped to her breast and he gave another low growl, before lowering his head and taking her nipple in his mouth.
He sucked hard and she felt sparks shoot from there through her belly straight to her clit. She rubbed more insistently against him, needing more pressure and friction.
“More,” she begged softly. She’d gone from warm and tingly to need-my-clothes-off-now in seconds.
His hand glided down her belly and his fingers slipped under the top edge of her thong. He didn’t drag it down, but his hand ran from her hip to her mound and paused.
She arched up into his touch. “Please, Fletcher.”
He lifted his head from her nipple and took her mouth in another deep kiss. He ran his thick middle finger down over her clit and she almost cried out from that simple touch alone.
The way she clutched him, her fingers digging into the hard muscles of his back, must have communicated her pleasure, because he continued the slow, sweet strokes over her clit for another few seconds, before dipping lower and pressing his finger inside to the first knuckle.
She wiggled under him trying to get her legs further apart, trying to lift closer, trying to do anything that would help relieve some of the need she was feeling. It had been forever—okay, six months and a few days—since someone else had touched her there. She did fine on her own but it was nothing like this.
“More. Harder.”
She wanted to feel more of him too. She wanted his shirt off, she wanted to put her hand on his bare cock and squeeze. She wanted him inside her. She wanted it all at once.
Her fingers went to the buttons on the front of his shirt and she started tugging. She knew she needed to unbutton them carefully, but she was fumbling with even that simple task, hovering on the verge of an orgasm the way she was.
“What do you need, Jordan?”
His voice was rough. She moved her head back and forth on the bed.
“I don’t know. I’m not sure. Something. More.”
“Help me out,” he said, moving his finger lazily.
She got three buttons open on his shirt, but it wasn’t enough.
What she really wanted was for him to just take over. She’d only been with one other man and for all she knew, they’d been doing everything wrong.
Okay, that was probably unlikely. But there could be so much more to her sex life than she even knew. She was looking forward to Fletcher’s experience actually. She wanted him to take the lead. To show her things she might not know. She definitely wasn’t used to talking about what she wanted. What she wanted was an orgasm. That was simple enough, wasn’t it?
“You help me out,” she said, again trying to lift her hips closer to his finger. “Show me what I’ve been missing.”
For some reason, that was the wrong thing to say. He suddenly froze. He took his hands from her body and rolled to the side. He scrubbed a hand over his face and let out a long sigh.
“Fletcher?” Jordan realized she was breathing a little harder. She rolled toward him. “What’s wrong?”
“I can’t do this.”
10
“You can’t do this?” Jordan knew her eyes were wide even though he wasn’t looking at her. “What does that mean?” Her body was still humming, her clit tingling.
He pushed himself to sit up on the edge of the bed. “Do you remember that time when you first tried mascara and you poked yourself in the eye with the stick thing and you ended up with an eye infection and your eye got all red and goopy?”
Her I-was-this-close-to-an-orgasm brain cells were jumping and she had to tell them shut up to process his question.
She sat up, pulling her tank top down. “Um…yes.”
“Yeah.” He nodded. “Me too.”
She stared at his back. “What?”
He pushed up from the bed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Fletcher?”
He didn’t look at her. “Yeah?”
“That’s what you were thinking about just now?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s…weird.”
“Yeah.”
Her body was still buzzing and hot. But now her left eye stung a little at the memory of that infection.
“What the hell does that have to do with anything?” she asked, rubbing her eye.
He shrugged. “I was just thinking about that.” He started for the door.
“So that’s really it? Seriously?”
She scrambled off the bed but didn’t go after him, just stood beside it, her hands on her hips. She had no idea what was going on.
“You know a lot of gross and embarrassing things about me,” she commented.
He stopped in the doorway and turned back. “I really do.”
She narrowed her eyes. It was true but it wasn’t particularly gentlemanly of him to bring it up. Then again, Fletcher had never been all that worried about being a gentleman with her. Nor should he have been.
She stepped forward.
He stepped back.
She rolled her eyes. Then she focused on the front of his pants. And his still-evident erection. “Doesn’t seem that my gross, infected eyeball is really that much of a turn-off.”
He shifted his weight. “Maybe I should think about the time you went to pee in the bushes at the bonfire party and peed on your shoe accidentally.”
“Hey! You try squatting behind a bush in the dark with your pants around your ankles, trying to avoid sticking your ass in poison oak, and not pee on anything you shouldn’t.” She shook her head. “It’s amazing it only happened that one time.” And she definitely hadn’t told anyone else, even about that time. Now he was using it against her? “You swore you’d take that to your grave.”
“I won’t ever say anything about that to anyone else,” he said. “But I know it. I can’t not know it.”
Okay, so he knew gross and embarrassing things about her and apparently that was an anti-aphrodisiac.
Great.
If that was true, they were never going to have sex. Because the list of things the two of them knew about one another that they couldn’t not know, was extensive.
“Well, I know a lot about you too”, she said. “Like your credit card number. Which is going to be handy since all my vibrators are in Nashville right now. I need to order a couple. Or head to New Orleans.”