Forbidden to Touch

by JC Harroway

  Reid exits and I follow, my hand still nestled in his. With my head reeling after what he’s just confessed, I’ve barely found my balance on the pavement, when he steps closer, backing me up until my backside hits the car door and our chests collide. My breath hitches as all thought except of the man towering in front of me ebbs away. His warm, hard body pressing against mine from chest to thigh reminds me how decadent touching him feels. How forbidden even the idea of him has been for so long. How, after fighting and striving to make it alone, this past year has drained every sexual impulse from me, and the idea of handing over control to this man—albeit just in the bedroom—leaves me giddy with relief and anticipation.

  I look up, achingly aware of his height, his broad chest, every spectacular masculine inch of him.

  His arms encircle me, our entwined hands settling in the small of my back as he crushes me to his chest.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘What for?’ His shirt smells fantastic, and I want to rub the scent all over myself so I can wake up tomorrow and relive tonight.

  He pulls back and I’m left deprived of his heat under my cheek. ‘For telling me how my father helped you.’ The flash of uncertainty which momentarily crosses his features is so out of place, I almost convince myself I didn’t see it.

  ‘You’re welcome.’ I’m dying to ask questions. To press him for his confidence, but instinct tells me he’d disappear behind that controlled veneer quicker than the snap of a mousetrap. And the selfish, horny part of me is grateful I kept my mouth shut when I catch the intense look on his face a split second before his mouth descends and he kisses the air from my chest.

  I cling to the sleeve of his jacket with my free hand as I kiss him back, any thought beyond how good it feels to be able to do this with him abolished.

  He breaks away first, his chest heaving. ‘Fuck, I’ve wanted to do that since you stepped out of your front door.’ His lips brush mine again and he grins, almost apologetically. ‘I’d planned to draw out the anticipation, but you’re too irresistible.’

  I laugh, all my nerves forgotten, and wipe the smear of my lip gloss from his mouth.

  ‘Thanks.’ He peels his body from mine and I almost hear our combined sigh of regret as we head inside. He guides me ahead of him, his hand in the small of my back. His fingers slide to the top of my arse, caressing, sending snakes of delight down to the backs of my knees.

  I exhale through pursed lips as I settle myself in our discreet, booth-style table. Reid sits close enough that our thighs brush, his touch doing something wonderful to fan every flutter of excitement inside me so I’m desperate with anticipation. Not content with this, he spreads his legs in that way men sit, so now we’re touching hip to knee and I’m left deliciously curious as to how much space he needs to create between his thighs. My mouth dries and he presses his leg against mine in a very deliberate move.

  ‘Hungry?’ he asks, his thumb idly swiping back and forth on my bare shoulder where he’s casually slung his arm around my back.

  I shrug, the keg of lust inside me filling to capacity. ‘A little.’ How can he do this to me, inspire so much lust with just a look and minimal body contact? Clearly a year without sex is too long. Clearly my fantasies were spot-on and the long wait to have them fulfilled was worth every second of yearning.

  His stare hits me—seductive, bold, a challenge. ‘Did you get my text?’

  I nod, my brain fried by his heated eye contact, the scrape of his commanding voice and the reminder he wanted me bare and I willingly, almost giddily, complied. He’s taking my fantasies and adding layer after layer of extras until I’m certain I’ll combust from desire.

  His eyes dip from my face, travelling at a snail’s pace over my breasts and down into my lap, where my hands are clutched. ‘Good, because I’m ravenous.’ His eyes meet mine, and the flames in my belly reignite.

  I forget how to breathe, revelling in the beam of his attention, just like this morning, when any other Faulkner employee could have disturbed us. My blood roars so hard, I completely miss the waiter asking for our drinks choice.

  Reid keeps his eyes on me. ‘What do you say?’ He brushes a strand of hair from my cheek, fingertips grazing, in no hurry. ‘Champagne?’

  I nod, my mouth too dry for speech. Now he’s touched me, kissed me, it’s as if he can’t keep his hands to himself. I resist the urge to fan my face or douse my body with the chilled water on the table. I know I wanted this, but at this rate I’ll be a pile of ash before we’ve even ordered.

  When we’re alone, I gather some of my wits and clear my throat. ‘Just so we’re clear, I’ll be paying for dinner.’ He can control the sex—something tells me I’ll reap all the rewards tenfold—but I’m still a strong, independent woman. Of course, we may have to limit ourselves to the one bottle...

  Reid snorts. ‘I don’t think so.’ He inches closer, the heat in his stare constant, as if my suggestion carried negligible consequences.

  ‘Dutch, then? This was my idea.’

  Reid’s stare narrows, searching, and then he dips his head so his lips graze my cheek. ‘You said I could be in the driver’s seat, so why don’t you relax about the bill?’

  The feminist in me baulks, deciding next time, if there is a repeat date, I’ll put up more of a fight. Then I remember I suggested sex. We’re here because I made him a proposition beyond business. And I conceded control so I could live out the very Reid fantasies making me hot and achy and embarrassingly damp between my legs...

  Perhaps sensing victory, he grins, has the audacity to wink. ‘Get used to it. Besides, we have more pressing matters to discuss.’ His stare dances over my face, settling on my mouth, and he leans in so his lips brush my ear. ‘Let’s pick up where we left off this morning. You touching yourself, me walking in, watching, taking over...’ His voice recites the events as if I needed the recap, but it’s imprinted on my memory.

  ‘So, tell me, how else did I touch you in these early fantasies? Because I need to touch you again.’ His breath slides down my neck as he dips his chin and hums a sexy growl low in his throat while inhaling deeply.

  He’s sniffing me.

  I shudder as my whole body tingles. My mouth opens but no sound emerges—I’m so turned on I literally couldn’t speak even to warn him that the building around us was on fire. I check his expression, seeing the need I glimpsed this morning as I came back down to earth after my orgasm.

  ‘Here?’ It’s a croak. First his boardroom, now this restaurant... Perhaps he’s some sort of exhibitionist. Do I care? As long as the boundaries of our game are so beautifully delineated. As long as I get what I want from this, from him.

  He wets his lips and nods, his stare bouncing down to my mouth. ‘I can’t help myself.’

  I look down to where his hand rests on the table, his fingers impatiently drumming. I nod too, so overcome with lust, I’ve forgotten all of the words in my vocabulary.

  The other hand, which rests behind me on the seat, skates up my back and settles at the nape of my neck and then he’s tugging me forward until our mouths touch in a slow, sensual glide of lips and mingling of warm breath.

  I gasp as he releases me, nowhere near done with his particular brand of kisses, but he doesn’t pull away. His eyes are intense as he looks to the place his mouth has just been as if he’s just tasted the most delicious delicacy on earth and he wants more. His tongue peeks out and touches his top lip as he raises his hand and wipes a smear of lip gloss from my chin.

  Pressure builds in my chest. I suck in a breath, preparing to touch my mouth back to his.

  The waiter returns and Reid relaxes back into the leather beside me while I try my best to breathe normally and to not leave scorch marks on the leather.

  Fucking hell. Have I ever been kissed the way he kisses me—with such delicious dichotomy? Devouring and demanding this morning, lazily thorough while pressed
against his car, and slow and sensual in this quiet corner, as if I’m on the menu and he’s determined to savour every bite. If I’d known it would be this good, perhaps I should have risked everything and thrown myself at him years ago.

  The waiter pours the wine at Reid’s request and then departs. I take a glug to settle my pounding blood before I lose consciousness and miss all the fun. I instinctively knew he’d be good...but this is a whole new level.

  ‘So what would you like to eat? The seafood here is excellent.’ Reid flips open his menu, eyes downcast, while his other hand settles on my knee under the table as if we’ve casually touched each other intimately a thousand times.

  Warm. Confident. Thrilling.

  Despite the way he touched me this morning, the intimacy is still alien enough that I freeze, the tingles from his palm print travelling up my thigh straight to my bare clit. He’s inches away from touching my nakedness. In a public place. No closed door between us, and the other patrons only metres away.

  I should push him away, but, as if controlled by a lascivious third party, my thighs spread a fraction.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I whisper, while bubbles of adrenaline pop in my veins.

  His thumb strokes back and forth over my feverish skin with the familiarity and comfort of a lover, as if it’s one of the million touches we share as a couple. But we’re not a couple. We know only the superficial facts about each other. And this somehow adds to the potent hormonal mix.

  He looks up from the menu as if I’ve requested nothing more banal than the time. ‘I can’t keep my hands off you, and you must have had more than one fantasy—I want details.’

  It’s so matter-of-fact, I’m sure my mouth hangs open, while all I can do is nod.

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about this morning,’ he says. ‘About what other fantasies you have. And just knowing you might be bare under here...’ His stare darkens and he presses a silencing finger to my lips. ‘Don’t tell me—I want to find out for myself.’ Then his attention flicks back to the menu while his fingers grip, pressing into my thigh like brands.

  I check how low the white linen tablecloth drops, ensuring whatever he has planned won’t be witnessed by the rest of the diners. I slide a cursory stare over the menu, the bone-melting lust stealing my decision-making capabilities. Not that food could make it past my tight throat. ‘The chicken looks good.’

  ‘Mmm...’ he murmurs, his hand inching higher while he peruses the à la carte menu. ‘I think I’ll have the lamb.’ He closes his menu and returns the intensity of his focus to me.

  I can’t help the shudder. I bite my lip and reach for my wine to cover my reaction.

  ‘Feeling okay?’ He too takes a swallow, the bob of his Adam’s apple mesmerising.

  ‘Fine.’ About to combust, but fine.

  ‘You feel better than fine to me.’ His fingers stroke. His stare burns. His voice scrapes. Then slowly and deliberately he says, ‘Open.’

  One low, seductive word and I jump to his bidding as if I’m a conditioned lab rat desperate for my reward, spreading my thighs a fraction more so he can continue the caress of his palm.

  ‘So smooth and silky and warm.’ He leans in, lowering his voice to an intimate whisper. ‘And now I know what awaits me at the top of this thigh... I’m struggling to work up much of an appetite for food, unless it’s for dessert.’

  The look on his face—pure, unrestrained lust combined with his stark declaration—drags a squeak from me and I lower my shaking wine glass to the table. My heart thuds as I struggle for breath around the intrusive visions of having Reid’s cock in my mouth, having him desperate and out of control and as needy as I feel right now.

  ‘Penny for your dirty thoughts,’ he growls.

  How does he know? How can he turn me on so effortlessly? How can I want him so fiercely?

  I rest my elbow on the table and lean closer. ‘I want your cock in my mouth.’

  His fingers still, eyes blazing with lust.

  I continue, spinning out the fantasy I can tell turns him on, too. ‘I used to dream about coming to the Faulkner, finding you alone in your office and wordlessly dropping to my knees behind your desk.’

  His groan, eyes heavy-lidded, is music to my ears.

  I lean closer, drop my voice to a more intimate whisper. ‘You’d splutter, ask me what I was doing, but you wouldn’t stop me as I unzipped your trousers and took you into my mouth.’

  ‘Fuck it, Blair. Touch me. Now.’ He lifts one eyebrow, his command so gravelly, the sound buzzes over my nipples.

  I glance around the dining room, but no one pays us any heed. No doubt we look like any other loved-up couple, out for a romantic dinner. We’re so close on the seat, we could be holding hands under the table.

  I place my hand on the steel of his muscular thigh, my stare holding his in challenge.

  ‘Higher,’ he bites out.

  I obey, sliding my hand all the way up to the big, stiff length of him braced against the fly of his trousers.

  His lips part as I stroke him with my fingertips, pressing my thumb to the spot below the head that drags a low growl from him. ‘You’re going to get your wish one day soon—trust me. First thing tomorrow morning I’ll be getting a lock installed on my office door.’

  ‘Don’t bother,’ I whisper, sliding my thumb over the head of his cock, certain his trousers feel damp, as if he’s leaking already. ‘Someone coming in was part of the fantasy. I’d keep going, concealed under your desk, and you’d try to continue a conversation while I took you to the back of my throat.’

  He leans close, his mouth moving through the curtain of my hair. ‘You wonderful woman. I’ve been sitting behind that desk hard for you all day—fucking uncomfortable feeling, let me tell you.’ His confession makes me smile, the idea this urbane CEO spent the day discreetly adjusting himself around the office because of me adding another layer of turned-on to my weakened body.

  ‘Why didn’t you do something about it?’ The thought of him stroking what I have in my hand while he thinks of me sends pulses of heat through my core. That I could inspire such...desperation after being invisible for so long. My throat dries and I swallow. Would he jack himself off hard and fast or pump slowly, his wrist twisting...? My thighs twitch, desperate to come together, but reluctant to dislodge the torturous, crawling passage of his hand.

  ‘Because it’s for you.’ The brows once again rise as he pins me with a look packed with promise. ‘I’m saving every drop for all the fantasies you have.’

  I’ve been so turned on by his words, by touching him and learning what he likes, I’ve missed the fact his hand hasn’t idly lingered in one place on my leg. When his finger brushes a whisper of touch over my exposed lips, I gasp as the sensation practically knocks me back in the seat.

  ‘Here is my dessert,’ his filthy voice husks, intimate, for my ears only. ‘I’m ravenous for this. Was that also part of the fantasy?’ His fingers circle while he speaks, and I fight to conceal the judders that rack my body as he strums my clit. I bite my lip, grasping hold of the pleasure, trying to keep it locked inside. Private.

  ‘Tell me—did you ever fantasise about me putting my mouth on you?’

  I offer a shaky nod, and triumph blazes over his face.

  The waiter returns with some starters I have no recollection of ordering. I snatch my hand from Reid’s crotch and he does the same from mine, but slowly, surely and with a confidence that leaves me wondering how many times he’s done this public pleasuring routine before...

  Lucky women.

  Reid props his elbow on the table as the waiter deposits our plates. He looks directly at me, presses his thumb—the one that’s just rubbed me close to melting—to his lips and swipes his tongue over the wet pad.

  ‘Mmm...delicious.’ It’s subtle. Reid’s polite smile for the waiter, his quick glance down at the food, c
overs his real meaning. But I flush all over, my body temperature now dangerously high.

  And so it continues.

  Over every course we tease each other beneath the table. I barely touch my food and, although Reid fares a little better, I’m certain he too struggles.

  By the time he asks for the bill, he’s dragged me close to the edge of climaxing at least twice, so I’m so desperate to come I’ve forgotten my own name.

  My legs, as he guides me from the restaurant, are so wobbly I’m tempted to remove the heels I know make my legs appear longer in case I collapse before we reach the car.

  When I’m panting on the back seat, my thighs pressed tightly closed to ease the burn, I glare at him, torn between begging and demanding he’ll do something to finish me off.

  ‘Fancy a nightcap at my place,’ he says, ‘or shall I drop you home?’

  I appreciate the out clause, but home...? In this state...? The curl of his lip floods my body with relief.

  ‘Nightcap sounds lovely, thanks.’ My voice is an embarrassing croak and I want to swallow him whole in punishment.

  He gives free rein to a full-out sinful smile. ‘Egerton Crescent please, Terry,’ Reid says to the driver before sliding closed the tinted privacy screen.

  I practically sob with relief. Then I launch myself into his lap.

  His hands grip my hips as I cover his mouth with mine, so desperate I drag my teeth over his bottom lip and pull back, panting, at his grunt of warning. ‘That’s for teasing me.’ I rub his still hard length through his trousers and grapple with his belt buckle.

  He’s driven me so successfully to the brink of delirium all night, if he doesn’t touch me soon I’m going to do it myself, right here in front of him, private or not.

  He shoves me off his lap, tipping me onto the leather seat beside him and then following me so he can kiss me back. ‘You want it here? In the back of a car? Another fantasy?’

  ‘As opposed to a restaurant full of people?’ I smile even though I’m a turned-on mess.

  ‘Fair point.’ His chuckle emboldens me to unleash some more honesty, as it seems to fire him up.