The Affair: Week 2 Read Free

second. He seemed to notice her stunned expression. He jerked her hand away, grimacing. He lowered his head, obscuring his face. For a few seconds, he remained like that, his chest moving in and out in silent pants.
    He glanced up after a moment, that marblelike surface she often saw on his features back in place. His hand skimmed down over her belly. Her stomach muscles jumped at the caress. His fingers slid beneath the waistband of her jeans. Her eyes widened.
    He flipped his wrist in a precise, expert motion, and the top button of her jeans came unfastened.
    “You’re confusing me,” she said, her heart thumping in anxious, wild anticipation.
    Long fingers moved over her fly, methodically releasing button after button. She bit her lip, finding his touch so near her sex almost unbearably exciting. He stared down at her steadily. “I’m trying to convince myself that I’m being noble. You’ve had a really crappy twenty-four hours. You need some time to absorb what it all means to you without having some asshole humping you in the backseat of a car. Still. You deserve some pleasure. That’s what you’re telling me you want. To forget what happened last night, if only for a little while. I can do that for you.”
    “Oh,” she mumbled. Is that what she’d been telling him, not only with her mouth but also her body? She increasingly didn’t care, as long as he kept touching her. With him touching her, all thoughts of Amanda’s shattered expression in that living room last night vacated her brain.
    His fingers burrowed beneath her jeans, skimming her labia through her underwear. Rubbing. Pressing. The whole time, he watched her expression tightly. When he struck her bull’s-eye, she gasped at the ideal, direct pressure on her clit. Her core clenched tight. She grimaced at the sharp pinch of need and pressed her hips up against him and whimpered uncontrollably.
    He really knew his way around a woman’s body.
    Oh my God.
    To say the least.
    He lowered his head until his mouth was just a fraction of an inch from hers, his gaze holding hers fast the whole time.
    “The thing of it is, though, I’m still just being selfish. I’m not going to rest until I feel you shake against me,” he said, his tone a strange mixture of thick arousal and anger.
    His fingers found the edge of her panties and slid beneath them. She whimpered shakily as the ridge of his forefinger burrowed between her lips, gliding in the well-lubricated valley. He’d mapped her out well in his little expedition above her panties. She shook as he played her. He grunted roughly against her mouth.
    “So what do you say? Do you think you can grant me rest tonight, Emma?” he murmured, rubbing her clit and plucking and biting at her upturned lips in a way that made her burn in places she didn’t realize she owned.
    “Oh
yes
,” she whispered.
    “That’s what I wanted to hear,” he said hotly as both his finger and tongue plunged in unison.

Chapter Seven
    The thing of it is, though, I’m really just being selfish. I’m not going to rest until I feel you shake against me.
    Despite his words, what he was doing to her felt far from selfish. She drowned in decadent, flooding pleasure. He moved in her outer sex, pressing and sliding, his hand every bit as skilled at this maneuver as it was the deft, precise handling of a car. He owned her mouth at the same time that he touched her. He may have expressed his doubts about making love to Emma in the backseat of a car in a garage on a night when she was so vulnerable, but his kiss was wholesale, deep and compelling, holding nothing back.
    Emma found herself giving just as completely. Her fingers plunged into his hair. She loved the feeling of it in her hands.
    His finger continued to agitate her, gliding and rubbing her clit in a way that made her core contract and her eyes roll back in her head. God, she was burning from the inside out. She was wet, very wet, she could tell by the easy glide of the