When her thumb brushed across my nipple, I made an involuntary sound. Then I was reaching for her, burying one hand in her hair and pressing my mouth to the side of her throat and the other hand around her waist to urge her forward, against me...right into my lap. Her thighs naturally spread to straddle me as she slid into place, and my teeth nipped at the wet black strap of her swimming suit, aching to bite into it and draw it off her shoulder, expose her breasts to me and—
I hadn’t realized my arm had tightened so much around her waist and tugged her quite so deep into my lap until my aching cock pressed right up between her legs, only the damp cloth of our swimwear separating us.
She stiffened in my arms, and I froze.
“Is this too much?” I asked against her shoulder, fearing that if I looked into her face right now, I’d see fear or disgust. But a breath later, she relaxed into me and pressed even harder against my erection
“No,” she said as she nuzzled her cheek against mine.
It was too much for me, though. Hearing her breathless answer, feeling her in my lap, smelling her, tasting her, I wanted more. I wanted everything. So I kept pressing my forehead to her shoulder without diving back into her lips. Except, I could picture them perfectly in my head, still parted, and dewy, and so freaking tempting. I wrapped both arms around her and pulled her in until I had my chin tucked over her shoulder. Refusing to make eye contact, I gazed out toward the water so I couldn’t be tempted by the sight of her mouth again.
She burrowed against me and hugged me back. For such a skinny girl, she was an amazing hugger. And her breasts definitely didn’t seem so small when they were flush up against me. We fit together perfectly. She was soft and warm and feminine.
There was so much weird shit going on inside me, things I’d never experienced before that went way above mere physical need. It overwhelmed the fuck out of me.
I combed my fingers through her hair to hide the way they’d begun to shake.
Then she had to go and admit, “I can’t remember the last time I was hugged,” and that intense awareness in me me coiled even tighter around my heart until my entire chest felt compacted and full.
“Then I’ll hug you every day,” I promised.
My erection dug against her feminine warmth and her hard nipples poked through her swimming suit and right into my chest, but I didn’t even care to push for more. Because simply hugging Felicity Bainbridge to my heart was the most fulfilling sensation in the world.
“What the fuck!” I growled as I pinned Pick to the wall of his office by his throat. “What the actual fuck? You lied to me.”
He lifted his hands, though the calming gesture did little to placate me. “I take it Felicity is a trigger with you. Good to know.”
I thumped him against drywall. “This isn’t funny.”
He sputtered out a sound. “Trust me, man. I’m not laughing. But I am curious. Are you pissed to hear her name because you blame her for what happened or because you’re upset to learn how she turned out?”
My fingers tightened in his shirt as I narrowed my eyes. “Why would I blame her for anything?”
He blew out a breath. “You shouldn’t. And it’s a relief to hear you say you don’t. Now back up off me so I can breathe. Then I’ll explain everything. I never lied to you.”
I let go of his jugular and lifted both hands as I took a step back. “So, what? You just forgot to mention she works here? She fucking works here? Did you never hear what happened to us?”
The fucker took his sweet time answering as he straightened his shirt and wiped a palm over his face before drawing in a deep breath. Then, all he said was, “Oh, I heard. It was the big talk in our neighborhood months after you were arrested.”
That’s when I lost it. My breathing had picked up and my core temperature broiled off the charts. Even my fingers tingled with the urge to curl them into fists and start swinging. But learning she worked here—with me—was more than I could take.
“How can she work here, the daughter of a millionaire? She should be off at some Ivy League university getting a doctorate in fucking psychology while she’s engaged to some rich son of a bitch, who showers her with love and affection and all that shit. She should not be here, slaving as a waitress in some seedy-ass bar with all kinds of scumbags grabbing her ass whenever she brings them their beer. What...the fuck?”
Glowering, Pick folded his arms over his chest. “Okay, I’m going to ignore the fact you just called my highly classy nightclub seedy, and I’m going to tell you Felicity cut ties with her family the day she turned eighteen. She never went to college…because she couldn’t afford it. She struggles just to make ends meet.”