Some Like It Wild by M. Leighton

against my hand and I can feel her body sucking at my finger, begging me to fill it with something bigger, something harder. But as much as I want to do exactly that, I want her to be fully awake and fully consensual for it. I’ve never had sex with a woman who wasn’t aware of what was happening. And although I can feel how willing her body is, I want her mind to be on board, too.
    “Laney, you know this is real, right?” I ask, reluctantly stilling my hand and looking up past her luscious nipple to her passion-filled face. “You’re here with me, in my bed, and I’m getting ready to make you come so hard, you’ll scream my name. Tell me you want me to do that.”
    Her eyes are wide and very much awake, but now that I’m giving her an out, I can see the indecision rushing in. I can feel it in the way she’s tensing beneath me.
    Why the hell did I do that? Fu—
    “I’m sorry,” she whispers, interrupting my thought and confirming my suspicion. “I can’t think straight around you, and certainly not when you’re . . . touching me.”
    I hold back a sigh and give her a wry smile. “I kinda figured as much.” Reluctantly removing my finger from inside her, I move back up her body to lean over her. I pull a strand of hair away from her face. “This
is
gonna happen. You know that, right?”
    She says nothing. She doesn’t agree, but she doesn’t
disagree
either, which tells me she knows it, too.
    “Just not tonight,” I say, rolling off her and sitting up to run my fingers through my hair. With my back to her, it gives her time to straighten her clothes without me looking on. It gives
me
time to focus on not getting harder. And not trying to persuade her. Which I could do.
    I know if I pressed her, I could get her to give in. But I won’t. When we do this, I want her body
and
her mind begging for it. “Tonight, I’m very interested to know how I came home to find you in my bed.”
    “Are you complaining?”
    I turn around to look at her, to see if she’s kidding. Her expression is unreadable. “Hell no!”
    She smiles and draws her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them. Even though it’s an innocent gesture, it’s so prim it’s somehow sexy. And it makes me want her all over again.
    I stretch out on my side, crossways in front of her, resting my head on my palm. “So, tell me your tale, Goldilocks.”
    Laney focuses on her toes as she wiggles them. I don’t say anything else to prompt her. She’ll tell me in her own time. She has to. She’s been sleeping in my bed, for God’s sake.
    Finally she speaks. Her voice is quiet. Wounded.
    “It won’t make any sense unless I start from the beginning.”
    “Okay, then start from the beginning.”
    She glances up at me then quickly away, almost like she’s embarrassed. Now I’m more curious than ever to know her deal.
    “My whole life, all I’ve ever wanted was to get married and have kids, and find in life what my parents have.” I suppress a groan.
    Damn! Why does she have to be
that
kind of woman?
    “I met a guy my freshman year in college. He seemed like the perfect man. He was smart, responsible, ambitious, loving. He had pretty much the same goals as me. And I thought he was trustworthy. Turns out he wasn’t. I found him in bed a couple of months ago. With my best friend.”
    “Oh shit! What an asshole!”
    Laney nods, still staring at her toes. “I’m sure you know . . . I mean, I doubt it’s any surprise to you that . . .”
    When she doesn’t finish, I prompt her. “What? Spit it out? What should I know?”
    She struggles with how to phrase whatever she’s getting at. I watch her small, white teeth chew nervously at her bottom lip. It’s distracting as hell. Makes me wish she’d finish her story and then ask me to lick her from head to toe.
    Although I doubt that’s likely.
    At least not tonight.
    Maybe tomorrow night . . . If I can get her to stay . . .
    When she still doesn’t speak, I bark, “Damn, woman! Out