“No more games,” he says when we come up for air. “I only want you.”
“Are you okay with that? You don’t need to touch them while you think about me? You don’t want to?” Just saying the words is making me wet, and I squirm a little as I wonder what kind of a hypocrite I am that I’m putting the brakes on something we both found so deliciously erotic.
I bite my lower lip thoughtfully before continuing. “It’s just that I know you like sex dirty. That you need it—”
“Fucked up?” he interrupts. “I do.” His eyes drop to my breasts, where my obviously hard nipples are apparent through the lace of my bra and the thin material of my simple pink T-shirt. “I think you like it, too.”
I don’t deny it. “So?”
His mouth curves up. “I told you before. That’s just playing. I don’t need it. Not with you.”
“Oh. Well, then that’s my—what do they call it?—my hard limit. No playing those kind of games unless—”
I cut myself off. I hadn’t intended to go there.
“Unless?” His eyes sparkle with amusement, and I’m absolutely certain he knows what I’m going to say.
I glance down at his hand on my thigh. “Unless I start it.” I don’t look up, but I bite my lip as the hand that has been resting gently on my thigh starts to slide up, pushing my skirt as he goes.
“So, you’re saying you like it? That watching me cup another woman’s ass turns you on? That seeing her suck my cock makes you wet?” His words are raw. Almost vulgar. And yet I can hear the humor beneath them.
“It’s not funny.” Damn the man, he knows me so well. Lover. Brother. Friend. And he gets me better than anyone. Maybe even better than I understand myself.
“I’m not laughing.” He’s not. In fact, the humor in his voice has been replaced by a low, burning heat. His hand is midway up my thigh now, so close to my core that I’m practically shaking with anticipation. “Someone doesn’t want to cut off her options,” he says as he gently tugs on my thigh, urging me to spread my legs. “Tell me why.”
Considering I’m losing the ability to form words, I find his demand entirely unreasonable. My skirt is up over my knees now, and I’m not wearing panties—those are probably still on the floor of the cabana. That means that with my legs spread, I’m completely open—and the cool night breeze against my hot, wet pussy feels beyond incredible.
“Jane.” His fingertip traces along the soft skin between my pubis and my thigh. “Tell me why you want to keep the option open. Why you might want to slide your hand between your legs and stroke yourself while you watch me bite some other woman’s nipple.” As if in illustration, he strokes his finger over me from clit to core and I whimper from the incredible pleasure of it.
“Tell me,” he demands again.
“Because I do like it.” My voice is a whisper at first. “Even tonight, it was hot. I hated that I liked it, but I did. I just …”
“You didn’t want to share.”
“Now that you’re mine—”
“I am yours,” he says, pushing his fingers deep into me.
“I know.” I move my hips, my body on a mission to draw him in further. Harder. “And I don’t want to share.” I tilt my head so that I can meet his eyes. “Not yet, anyway. But later. When I feel more certain, I—” I drop my eyes again. Another thing I hadn’t intended to admit.
“Are you not certain about how I feel?”
“No.” I blurt the word out. There is no doubt in my mind that Dallas loves me. Fully. Completely. Even painfully. “Never.”
“Then you mean the future.”
I nod.
“We’ll make this work.”
I want to ask how, but I don’t. I just nod. “You’re everything I want,” I say. “You know that, right?”
“I know it, because I feel the same way.”
“And I don’t share my toys easily.” I shift, sliding off his fingers as I rise up so that I can move to straddle his lap. “I’m pretty much a greedy little bitch.”
“Oh, really? How greedy?”
“Very.” I slide my hand down his chest and press my palm against his very stiff cock. “Very greedy.”
His hand moves to my waist. “Come with me into the shed.”
“No. Here.”
His brow lifts. “Someone might see.”
I take the hem of my blouse and tug it over my head, leaving me in only my sandals, skirt, and a very skimpy bra. “Only if they get through the hedge.”
“Interesting,” he murmurs as his hands move to my breasts, tugging the lace down so that I am fully exposed.
“What?” I reach behind and draw down the zipper on my skirt. I don’t want to get off his lap even for a second, and so I lift the skirt over my head as well, then toss it onto the side of the bench with my shirt.