Unravel Me

By: Tori St. Claire

Somehow, he’d wrestled the keys from her grip. They jangled in the quiet as he lifted his hand and drew the key fob slowly down her neckline, between the upper valley of her breasts. His voice was hoarse as he murmured, “I like to drive, sweetheart.” Taunting her with an undefined promise, he grazed his lips closer to her ear.

Part of her objected to that remark. But a deeper, untapped portion of her buried spirit surged past barriers she’d erected too many years ago. That neglected fragment latched on, creating vivid, erotic images of the many alternate meanings his simple comment could hold.

She pressed her hand to the sexy stranger’s chest to keep her knees from buckling. Her body swayed into his, but as if he had anticipated her weakening, he edged ever-so-slightly away, denying the satisfaction of contact. Her nails curled; his linen shirt bunched into her palm.

He feathered his lips across hers, then with a maddeningly wicked grin, stepped back. “Let’s go.”

Struggling to swallow, Cassie managed a short nod. As she turned, his palm connected with her bottom. The playful swat could hardly be called more than a pat, but heat spread slowly through her veins. She refused to rub the offended spot and hurried around the fender to climb into her side of the car.

He’d already started the engine when she slid inside the Jeep. She laid her flower on the dash. “Take a left out of the lot, then a right six blocks down. Up the hill, second house on the right.”

He nodded and backed out of the lot. Turning onto the main street, his hand fell to her thigh. His fingers crept beneath the hem of her short dress. The contact was too much for her over-sensitized brain, and she clapped her hand on top of his.

He drew his hand back. “Everything okay?”

“Yes.” Nothing was wrong. But if those fingertips glided any higher, she’d crumble apart. All she wanted to do was part her knees, lean back, and let him ease the ache between her legs. And while she was more than willing to go through with this, she didn’t want him to know just how easily he affected her. A tiny bit of wonder might do him good.

He kept his gaze on the road, turning at the stoplight. But his continued silence as they climbed the tree-laden hill, warned her she needed to do something quick, if she intended to convince him she was really okay with their agreement. Yet what could she say? Sorry, you just overwhelm me? Not hardly.

He glanced her way. “It’s okay to change your mind. I’m not going to go all psychotic on you. I’ll turn around and we can go our separate ways. No hard feelings, no objections.”

Cassie reached for his hand. “I’m all right. I promise.” To emphasize her words, she pressed his palm to her thigh once more.

He blew out a tight breath then flashed a dimpled grin. “Is this permission?”

The laughter in his voice left her grinning in return. She nodded. “Indulge as you wish.”

“Believe me, I intend to.” His fingers nudged the sheer fabric out of his way as they climbed higher. Slowly, maddeningly, he scalded a path to the crease of her hip.

Oh, sweet, sweet heaven. Everything inside her began to tingle. She bit down on her lower lip to silence a bubbling moan and closed her eyes.

And then he stopped. Not dipping down to glide beneath the edge of her panties and stroke her damp flesh. Not trailing back to her knee. He merely drew his finger back and forth through the crease where her leg bent. Goading her. Teasing until it became a physical impossibility to sit still.

With a frustrated whimper, Cassie shifted in the seat.

For a moment, she questioned her sanity. This man knew his way around women. Obviously understood the art of pleasure. And there was no doubting that he intended to maintain the upper hand. She’d wanted a bit of dominance. Wanted to stop thinking when it came to sex and let a man hold the reins.

But now that she was getting a taste of what it felt like to lose her control, she wasn’t entirely certain the experience wouldn’t have ever-lasting effects. Ten minutes alone with him, and he already had her wanting to beg for more.

Brad nosed into her driveway, cut the engine, and passed her the keys. He waited for her to exit the Cherokee first. When her door shut, he drew in a very necessary deep breath. If he didn’t watch himself, he’d spiral into reckless abandon. And frankly, though they’d part as strangers, he wanted her to remember tonight. To remember him.

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