Prince Albert(128)

"No," I whisper. I should step away, walk out the door. I should do the smart thing. The reasonable thing. The safe thing.

"I keep thinking about how I wanted to lift you out of the pool and set you on the edge, then put my face between those thighs and bury it in that sweet pussy of yours."

"Gaige –" I pause, nothing to say. I don't know why I'm constantly being surprised by the shit that comes out of his mouth.

"And you want me to," he says. Then I feel his finger on the back of my neck, slowly tracing down the middle of my back, and I shudder. Every part of my body feels sensitive, as if Gaige has flipped some kind of switch inside me, putting everything on hyper-alert. He walks around to the front of me, his face close to mine. "Say you want me, Delaney."

"No." I don't know why I tell him no, when I'm standing here and my body is screaming yes.

"No?" he asks. His gaze falls lower, down to my chest, and I know he can see my nipples hard against the fabric of my shirt. If he were to reach between my legs – oh God, I want him to reach between my legs – he'd know I'm wet. "So if I got down on my knees and touched my tongue to you, you wouldn't be the least bit wet?"

I don't answer, and Gaige keeps his eyes trained on mine as he trails his finger down the front of my shirt, between my breasts, then across the satiny fabric until he reaches my nipple, rolling his fingers around it, and sending arousal coursing through my body. "I don't – someone could see us."

That isn't true, and we both know it – my father's estate is huge, and there are no neighbors watching. And thanks to me, no more staff at the house tonight. Of course, it's not like our parents couldn't come home at any time.

"It's you and me, darlin'," he says. "Say yes." He slides his finger down the front of my shirt, taking away his glorious touch from my nipples. I want to tell him to put his hand back there, but I don't.

He traces his finger along my abdomen, inches it down the waistband of my pants, where they're slung low on my hips, until he reaches the top of my bikini line. "No panties, either?"

I shake my head, suddenly mute. My head is clouded by arousal. "No panties."

Gaige curses under his breath, and takes my hand, placing it on the front of his jeans. "Just so you know," he says. "That's the fucking effect you have on me."

His cock is hard underneath the fabric, and I can't take it anymore. I can't think clearly about the consequences of whatever is happening with us, and I just don't want to. I yank his shirt up over his head, and then r reach for his belt, unbuckling it as I look him in the eye. "This doesn't mean we're friends," I say.

"Trust me, darlin'," he says. "The last thing on this damn earth I want to be is your friend."





CHAPTER SIXTEEN

GAIGE



Delaney doesn't take her eyes off mine, and I watch as something changes in her expression. A look of resolve, I think. She reaches inside my pants and wraps her hand around my cock. "Then what do you want?" she asks. Her voice is low, breathy, and she looks up at me, her eyes wide.

"I want whatever the hell makes you keep doing what you're doing," I say as she slides her hand up my shaft, her touch light as a feather. When she reaches the tip, she stops, her thumb rolling over the surface of the head, finding the tiny drop of pre-cum that beads at the tip.

"I don't know what I'm doing, Gaige" she whispers. "I don't know what we're doing."

"You're always too much in your head, darlin'," I say, kicking off my shoes and sliding my jeans down over my ass. "So just stop thinking. Take off those fucking clothes before I tear them off you."

Delaney's eyes get big again. "Do you just order women around like that?" she asks. "Is that your thing?"

"My thing? Fuck. I'm naked and you're still standing there talking," I say. "I will rip your clothes off. Try me. It's not an idle threat."

"So girls just do what you tell them to do?" she asks. But both of her hands are on the hem of that silky-as-hell shirt of hers, paused as if she's deciding whether or not to strip. I'm going to make that decision real fucking easy, because I'm not playing any more.

"Stop talking," I say, my hand on the base of my cock. "Take. Off. Your. Goddamn. Clothes. Now." I punctuate each word for emphasis, and I swear to all that is holy, I am very close to tearing open her clothes like a wild animal. I've waited long enough for her. Four years. Four years and three months. Four years and three months and nine days.

Delaney starts to lift her shirt, but she's too slow, and I reach for the material, yanking it over her head in one swoop. Her hair spills down her shoulders, strands tumbling down her breasts. Taking a handful of hair at the nape of her neck, I yank her roughly against my hardness. When she moans, it's almost my undoing.