“I don’t know,” I replied. I couldn’t stop grinding on his thigh and asked him again to touch me.
“You do it,” he urged. “I wanna watch you touch yourself.”
“I’m embarrassed,” I breathed.
“Bailey,” he replied patiently. “Touch your *.” He pinched my nipples again, and this time I cried out.
I wasn’t sure about this game. If I refused him, did that make me the winner? I didn’t think so. I think I was supposed to touch myself—to get off—and to claim my victory afterward.
I slid my hand in my pants, under my panties, and gasped at the feel of my wetness.
“Are you wet for me?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Good. Now do your thing,” he instructed.
I stared at the kitchen ceiling as I rubbed my clit. Reece continued playing with my breasts, and I moaned as I felt the current surge up and down, throbbing deliciously between my legs before shooting electricity into my nipples. I rocked my hips, arching my back as the sensation built low—a starter fire in my abdomen. I rubbed myself more urgently, fanning the flames, conscious of the release that stood by me on the precipice, ready to snatch my hand before tumbling over the edge.
“Reece . . .”
I was scared to let him see me so vulnerable, but I was determined to come. I had to now. I’d taken the whole thing too far, and there was no turning back. There was no stomping on the fire. Only one way to put it out. An explosion of epic proportions.
I screamed, consumed in pleasure that raked the length of my body, leaving me shaking and sweating on his thigh when it was all over.
His hands left my breasts. He wrapped his arms around my waist and held me still, raining soft kisses on my shoulder.
“There is nothing more beautiful than when a woman comes,” he said quietly.
“Any ol’ woman?” I asked.
He chuckled. “Lemme rephrase that: There’s nothing more beautiful than when Bailey Mitchell comes.”
“And don’t you forget it,” I joked.
Embarrassment for my nakedness crept into my brain, and I leaned forward to retrieve my tank top. I pulled it over my head before turning to face Reece.
“Well,” I began, “that just happened.”
He grinned. “Yes, it did.”
I bit my lower lip and thought. “I’ll never look at pancakes the same again.”
“Good.”
“Sooo . . .” I looked at him expectantly. I’ve no idea why I thought he should know what was on my mind.
Reece smirked. “All right, Bailey. Out with it. What is it you really wanna say?”
“Where do we go from here?” I asked.
I needed clearly defined lines. I wasn’t the type of girl who could operate without them. I needed to know what we were and where it was headed for a number of reasons. The most important? I’m OCD. The second most important? I’m thirty-one. I didn’t have time to “hang out” with someone. I needed to know if there was a future—a real solid future.
“How about we just take it easy and hang out?” Reece offered.
Oh God. “Hang out.” Code for, “I just want booty.” Let’s be friends with benefits and all that stupid stuff.
I shifted uncomfortably on his leg, itching to tell the truth but knowing it could ruin all the magic of our budding romance.
“I don’t know how to do that!” I blurted.
“Hang out?” Reece asked. “Well, it just requires you to spend time with me.”
“And what are your expectations?”
“To have fun,” he replied.
I smacked his arm. “Be serious. We’re in our thirties.”
He laughed. “Oh, that’s right. I almost forgot people in their thirties can’t have fun.”
“Ha ha.”
“Bailey?”
“Hmm?”
“I’m not a user,” Reece said softly. “What’s going on here—what’s happening between you and me—it’s not some game. I’m not a player. I’m not looking to score and then disappear on you.”
I nodded.
“Do you believe me?”
“Yes.”
“So will you chill a little?”
“It’s not in my nature,” I admitted.
“I know. But maybe I can help you?” he offered.
“Help me chill?”
He nodded.
“Well, all right.” I resigned myself to this. I thought it would be murder, but I couldn’t know now how easy the transformation would end up being. I was still rigid—still adhering to my rituals—but Reece’s expression offered the possibility of freedom from my anxiety. Freedom from the strict lines I lived within. So I decided to trust it. “You’re in another magazine.”
He blushed.
“Firm Marketing,” I went on.
He said nothing.
“They said you’re a rising star in the marketing world.”
He shrugged.
“You’re a bit of a small celebrity.”
“Oh, stop it,” Reece replied.
“You should be proud of yourself, Reece. I see your commercial all the time. And every time I laugh and think, gosh, that guy’s clever.”
He kissed my shoulder.
“What are you working on now?” I asked.
“Home security system,” he replied.
I scrunched up my nose. “Well, that’s not nearly as much fun.”
“True. I think I’m better when the campaigns include a little wit and humor,” he said. “But home security systems don’t really lend themselves to wit.”
“Or humor.”
“Not unless the system is an anvil in a Road Runner cartoon.”
I laughed and stood up. Reece helped me clear the table and wash dishes before he left. He had a presentation to complete before eight the following morning. I believed him, but I also suspected that he didn’t want to wear out his welcome, and I respected that. He wanted us to give each other space, go slowly, pace ourselves. Well, apart from my breakfast orgasm.
I really liked this guy. And I mean really liked him. It was clear when he left, and my house felt empty.
I forced Nicki to come to me. I reconciled myself to the fact that I was being used for my extraordinary OCD organizational skills, even gave it my blessing, but that blessing came with a price. She had to travel to me for wedding planning, not the other way around.