Page 49 of This Broken Heart

My hands glide up her side, slipping over her chest. She fills my palms, scratching an itch that’s been there since the day I first laid eyes on her. It’s not enough. I tug her bra down, bringing my hands back down on bare skin. Her nipples harden against my palms. When I squeeze her, she arches against me. I slip my arms around her, bracing her, supporting her, while my hands explore her body. She lets her head fit into the crook of my neck, soft curls spilling across my shoulders.

Keeping one hand possessively on her breast, my other sails down her stomach, past that cute little belly button. She tenses slightly when I nose my fingertips under the lace band of her panties. I pause, but then she wiggles her round ass against my hips.

That’s all the encouragement I need.

My hand glides under her panties, fitting between her legs. I can feel her warmth beneath my fingertips and I pause there, liking the way she feels against my hand, the way her body feels tucked inside my arms.

My finger parts her folds, dipping inside, and I groan, kissing her shoulder. “So wet.”

She squirms against me, threatening to breathe new life into my shaft. But I already had my moment in the sun. It’s her turn.

Pushing her panties to the side, I slip my finger deeper. Her hand glides down my forearm, encouraging me to take more. My second finger squeezes inside, stretching her. She’s incredibly tight. If we ever do have sex, I’m going to have to be extra careful with her.

I curl my fingers, and she arches her back, pressing her hips against mine.

I can feel her clit hitting the fleshy part of my thumb. Pressing down, I increase the pace as I thrust my fingers in and out of her wet pussy.

She squirms in my arms and I hold her against my body. Peppering her neck and shoulder with kisses, I pinch her nipples with one hand, the other is buried between her legs.

I can feel her chest rising and falling, can almost feel her heart pounding against her chest. And then, with a muted little cry, she comes against me. Her muscles clamp down on my fingers, making me wonder what it would feel like to have my shaft buried inside instead of my fingers.

When the last twitches of her orgasm are spent, I pull my fingers out and bring them to her lips. She takes them in her mouth, tongue wrapping around my knuckles, taking the entire length of my fingers into her mouth so that I could almost tickle the back of her throat. I press a kiss to her temple and wrap her up in my arms.

I can’t remember the last time I felt this content. This relaxed.

We just woke up, but I slip into a light cat nap.

“Dad!”

My eyes snap open.

“Dad. Where are you?”

Fuck it all.

We spring apart, scrambling for our clothes. I can hear Trace banging the door open on my bedroom. All he would need to do is pass through the adjoining bathroom and he’ll catch us with our pants around our ankles.

Literally.

It’s a little funny, but mostly, very embarrassing. I feel like I’m back in high school again, scrambling to not get caught by my parents.

She manages to get dressed first. She’s got her jeans and sweater back in place, but her hair is still tousled. And those cheeks are flushed. I have the strongest compulsion to scoop her up and kiss those swollen lips, but something about those wide eyes tells me I need to give her space.

With a look over her shoulder, she slips out the door. I can hear her voice filtering through the wall. “Trace. What are you doing, buddy?”

“Where’s dad?”

“He’s around, I’m sure. What do you want for breakfast?”

Capitalizing on the diversion Erin is creating, I slip through the bathroom and emerge from my own bedroom.

He turns around, wide-eyed. “Where’d you come from?”

I give him a sleepy, befuddled look, feeling a little guilty. “I was in my room.”

As soon as the words are off my lips, I regret them. I don’t like lying to him. It was necessary, because I don’t think he’d understand what’s going on between Erin and me.

Hell, I don’t even know what’s going on between the two of us.