Text Me Baby One More Time (Page 22)

He shoves his hands in his pockets, and I take a moment to admire how hot he looks in his black slacks and unbuttoned dress shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.

I never thought forearms were sexy before, but damn does Shep have some nice ones.

“…on the roster.”

I snap back to reality just as he finishes speaking. “Huh?”

“Quit checking me out and focus.”

I put my hands on my hips and stare up at him. “Quit telling me what to do and just repeat what you said.”

He rolls his eyes with a smile. “I said, the event we’re headed to next weekend is three hours away and we’re on the roster to leave last. I already have a room booked.”

“You mean rooms, right?”

“Nope. Room.” He leans toward me, and I hate the way my heart starts pounding with his proximity.

What is with me tonight? Every little thing he says is getting me riled up.

I mean, to be fair, he is being very…forward. It’s not that I’m not on board with forward, but there’s no reason I should be squeezing my thighs together in anticipation of him saying pussy. I thought I was going to up and die when he grabbed my chin as I kneeled before him.

Now I’m overreacting because he’s leaning in close to me?

I’m pathetic.

And really fucking overdue for that orgasm he promised me.

Yeah, that’s all it is—sexual frustration. It has nothing to do with Shep himself. Impossible.

Keep telling yourself that, Denny.

“Two beds, Shep,” I argue, even though I don’t want to. I want to spend the night in the same bed as him so goddamn bad.

Wait…I do?

Oh hell. I really do.

I’m not Shep’s biggest fan, but I’ll be damned if my body doesn’t think he’s the hottest thing to ever walk this earth, despite how much my head is yelling at me to walk away from him and keep things simple between us.

“One.”

“Two.”

“One.”

Another step toward me, his lips only inches from my own. My stupid legs quiver, waiting for his mouth to drop to mine.

“And we’re spooning.”

Abruptly, he pulls away, spins on his heel, and leaves me standing there wanting more…for the umpteenth time tonight.

How I am going to survive this?

“You’re drooling.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m not even asleep, you ass.” I pry my eyes open and stare at the TV, not watching what’s happening on the screen.

Shep insisted on watching Bob’s Burgers, and since I secretly have a huge crush on Bob Belcher, I didn’t argue.

“Are you sure about that?”

“If I am, this is the worst dream I’ve ever had.”

I go to pull my feet off his lap, but he puts his hand on my calf, stopping me.

“Where are you going?”

“Bathroom. Wanna wipe my ass for me?”

“That’s the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever heard. No thank you.”

“Then let me up.”

“I will, but…” he draws out.

I groan. “What do you want, Shep?”

“Remember that ice cream you made me drive way out of my way for?”

“You mean way out of your way to the store that’s on the way to your apartment? Sure, I remember.”

“Wanna grab it?”

“I can do that.”

I pull my feet away again and this time he lets go.

“But I get the mint chocolate chip!”

I haul myself off the couch and dart for the kitchen.

I don’t make it far.

Those damn baseball player reflexes have him on me in seconds, wrapping his arm around my middle and hauling me into him.

“Nice try, shithead.”

“Let me go.”

“And give up my favorite ice cream to my arch nemesis? Not happening.”

“Arch nemesis?” I pout. “I thought we were friends now.”

He loosens his hold at the fake sadness in my voice and I try to wiggle away.

It’s no use. He’s too strong and not dumb enough to fall for my shit.

He shifts around, and that’s when I feel it.

“I’m sorry, Shep, but is that your dick poking me in the ass right now?”

“Yes,” he grunts as I push into him. “Fucking quit or I’m going to…”

“Going to…what? Kiss me again?”

Without warning he spins me, crushing his lips to mine. His tongue plunges into my mouth, twisting around my own, kissing me like he’s never kissed me before.

My body sags against his and he uses the opportunity to lift me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, his dick sliding against all the right places as he carries me over to the island in his kitchen.

He drops me onto the counter, his mouth traveling down my chin and over my neck. He sucks and kisses and bites and I’m certain there will be marks on my skin tomorrow.

I don’t even care. It feels too good to care.

Everything with Shep just feels too good.

His hands on my body. His lips on mine. Just being around him.

It’s too good.

Which is why I can’t help but give in, even when I know I shouldn’t.

It’s why I don’t push him away as his hands trail up my legs, my thighs, and dive under the shirt of his I’m wearing, why I don’t run when his fingers brush the undersides of my tits. If he’s surprised to find I’m not wearing a bra, he doesn’t show it.

It feels good.

Too good again.

But I don’t care anymore. I need it.

Besides, it’s just physical…right?

“God, I fucking love seeing you in my clothes,” he practically growls.

I knew last week he was enjoying the view, which is why I intentionally didn’t pack pajamas for my overnight stay.

“Do you have any idea how sexy you are, Den? How hard I had to fight every day of the last five years to not touch you? To not pull you into the nearest empty closet and have my way with you? And tonight, seeing you in that dress…god, it was killing me.”

He covers my nipple, sucking the hard peak through the t-shirt, and I nearly fall off the counter at the touch.

“Oh hell,” I mutter. “Stop talking.”

“No. You need to know this. You need to know how you’ve affected me.”

I push him away, bringing his face up to mine. “No, Shep, I really don’t need to know. I don’t want to know, because if I know, it’s going to make me all too aware of how bad an idea this is. I shouldn’t be doing this—we shouldn’t be doing this. I should have my guard up around you because you hurt me beyond belief. Yet, here I am, sitting on top of your counter wanting this more than my next breath. So, no, I don’t want to hear this. I just want to feel good.”

He looks like he wants to argue, to try to convince me I’m wrong, but that’s the problem…we both know I’m not.

This is a horrible idea.

And we’re going to do it anyway.

Like he flips a switch inside himself, he gives me his signature grin and says, “I can help with that.”

His mouth closes around my nipple and he bites down—hard. I arch into it, wanting more, needing more. He complies with my demands, sucking on me until I can’t take it anymore.

“Shep.”

That’s all it takes and he’s pulling at my bottoms. The shorts of his I’m wearing slide off me with ease, leaving me sitting on his kitchen counter in nothing but my t-shirt and panties.

His large hands splayed across my thighs send my mind reeling, and I squirm at the thought of him burying his head between them.

His eyes meet mine, starved, wanting this as much as I do.

He doesn’t voice his question out loud, but I see it anyway and spread my thighs in answer.

With a grunt of approval, he hauls me to the edge and I fall backward, my back resting against the cool countertop.

My legs shake as he pushes them apart even farther and I feel his eyes on me, on my light pink lacy boy-shorts.

“This is what you were wearing under that dress all night long?”

“Y-Yes.”

“Fuck, Den.”

“You should see the ass.”

With ease, he flips me around until I’m facedown on the counter, arching me until my ass is in the air.

“Hashtag no filter, huh?”

He lifts the edge of my underwear, just enough to see the bite mark he left there earlier, and he kisses it. The gesture sends my heart into overdrive as he flips me around again, jerking me back to the edge of the counter.

Maybe it’s the anticipation driving me nuts as he stares down at me, fingers on the edge of my panties. Slowly, he pulls the fabric aside, exposing me to him for the first time.

“Give me your hand,” he instructs, never taking his eyes off me.

I slip my hand into his, not questioning him.

He replaces his fingers with mine so they’re holding my underwear back then gives me the most wolfish grin.

“Hold these for me.”

And then his head disappears between my thighs.

“F-Fuck me,” I stutter as his tongue sweeps over my skin.

“Later,” he teases, using his fingers to spread me open even more. “Goddamn, Den. I knew this would be good, but I didn’t think it would be this good.”