Reaching inside his boxers, he freed his erection. He wrapped his hand around himself and closed his eyes. He pictured Georgia in his kitchen, walking toward him, pulling at the strings to her bikini. In his mind, she sat on the edge of his large, oak kitchen table, leaning back, offering him the view of a lifetime.
The things he could do to her on that slab of wood. He imagined what it would feel like to run his hand over her pale skin from her neck, down between her breasts, his fingers moving lower and lower until they found her wet, slick, and wanting. The mental picture pushed him close to coming.
Eric groaned and picked up the pace, his hand holding tight, moving up and down his shaft. Moisture beaded at the top. He captured it, using it to lubricate his movements. It wouldn’t be long now.
The soft sound of a door sliding open invaded the quiet. He felt a rush of night air, and the hand holding his dick stilled. He opened his eyes and looked toward the sliding glass door that led from his master bedroom to the patio.
Georgia stood there, a towel wrapped around her body.
What the hell? He kept his bedroom doors closed and locked. His housekeeper must have left the glass doors unlocked. He moved to cover himself.
“No, don’t stop,” she said, her eyes fixed on the hand trying to stuff his hard-on back into his pants.
“You shouldn’t be here, Georgia,” he said, his voice strained. “You need to go. And next time, knock.”
He watched as she bit her lip and cocked her head to one side. Long strands of her brown hair, wet from her dip in the pond, disappeared down the front of her covering. Her fingers toyed with the top of her towel. He didn’t see signs of bikini strings, which meant she’d left her suit on the dock. Knowing she was naked beneath that towel nearly pushed him over the edge.
“What if I stay?” she asked softly.
“I can’t touch you,” he managed through clenched teeth.
She slid the door closed behind her and turned the lock. “Then don’t.”
He saw something devilish flash in her brown eyes. The next thing he knew she’d let go of her towel. It pooled on the floor at her feet, leaving Georgia bare-ass naked in his room.
Eric sat on the bed, speechless, his eyes roaming over her body. He’d been right about her breasts. They were perfect. The tight peaks of her dusty pink nipples pointed right at him. His jaw clenched. He wanted to pull her close and run his tongue over her, drawing one breast into his mouth, grazing her nipple with his teeth before moving on to the second.
Georgia walked toward the foot of his king-size bed. Slowly, as if she didn’t want to startle him, she crawled onto the edge. His last few working brain cells told him to get the hell out of there. But he couldn’t move.
“No touching,” she said. “I promise.”
She shifted, swinging her legs around and spreading them wide. She planted her feet on his mattress. If he reached out, he could wrap his hand around her ankle. Hell, he could probably get both hands on her legs and pull her onto his lap.
Eric dug his hands into his comforter.
“Look at me, Eric,” she demanded. “Follow my hand.”
Resting back on one elbow, he watched as she ran her fingers down over her chest. Her head practically hanging off the edge of his bed, she traced a circle around her navel before moving lower still. She paused, her index finger running back and forth over the neatly trimmed strip of hair at the top of her mound.
“I want you,” she said softly. “And if this is as far as you’re willing to go, I’ll take it.”
“No touching,” he repeated, his voice hoarse.
Her finger dipped between her smooth folds. “Not each other.”
“It’s not right, Georgia.” He shouldn’t see her naked, never mind watch her touch herself. It was wrong on so many levels, but the tiny shreds of willpower he’d been clinging to since she arrived in his home had fled the room the minute her towel hit the floor.
She didn’t say a word. Shifting on the bed, she lay flat, her head resting on the edge. He watched as she reached her second hand between her legs and parted her lips, exposing her slick, wet entrance to him. She slipped one finger inside and moaned.
No longer thinking clearly, Eric freed his throbbing dick and started moving his hand up and down, never once taking his eyes off her fingers. Her thumb teased her clit, brushing back and forth in soft, swift circles. He memorized every moment, wishing he could replace her hand with his tongue and use the knowledge to make her come against his mouth.
She pushed a second finger inside. Slowly, she drew them in and out, allowing him to see every movement. She was wet, so damn wet.
Georgia lifted her head, but she kept her hands between her spread thighs. “You like to watch.”
“Hell, yeah.” When it came to Georgia, he had a feeling he’d like just about anything. But this? Watching her pleasure herself on his bed—it took him to a whole new level of turned on. It was kinky. And yes, that appealed to him too. He was consumed with the need to touch, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not ever.
Tonight—Georgia in his bed with every inch of her body exposed—was a one-time thing. She’d broken his self-restraint when she’d walked into his room, catching him literally with his pants down. But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to take this moment for himself. This was his only chance to see the woman he’d wanted damn near forever wild and unrestrained.
He stood, never taking his eyes off her hands, the way her back arched and her hips lifted to meet her fingers.
“Eric?”
He heard the vulnerability in her voice. The fingers brushing back and forth against her clit slowed.
“Don’t stop, Georgia,” he said, standing over her. “Roll over. I want you on your knees. Let me see every inch of you.”
He looked up at her face. The mischievous gleam he’d seen in her eyes when she’d first entered the room returned. Without a word, she rolled to her stomach, thrusting her ass into the air and spreading her knees wide on the bed.
The view—it stole his breath away. Her fingers never stopped working, pushing in and out, her body rocking against her hand. His gaze ran up her torso, lingering on her breasts as they brushed back and forth against the comforter. Her cheek rested on the bed and her eyes were open, staring back at him.
Years of pent-up, carefully controlled desire rose to the surface. Everything he wanted for his purely selfish pleasure lay within his grasp. He stepped forward, his straining erection inches away from her entrance. Christ, if only—
“I’m going to come,” he murmured. His hand moved faster, tighter. What they were doing might be wrong, but right now, in the moment? He wanted this, even if he couldn’t touch her.
He came hard. On the bed, he heard a soft murmur of appreciation. He looked down and saw Georgia writhing, her eyes locked on him.
“My turn,” she whispered. “Don’t look away.”
“I couldn’t now, even if I wanted to.” He wanted to witness her climax, watch her fall apart. Her hands moved faster, her body jerking and bucking wildly. She moaned, biting her lower lip.
“The things I want to do to you,” he murmured. Seeing her like this, his imagination ran wild. The mental picture of Georgia on her knees, her lips wrapped around him, made him want to start back at square one minutes after he’d exploded.
“Come for me,” he demanded. He might not be the one touching her, but he refused to stand by and observe. He had to be a part of this. “Now, Georgia.”
His command pushed her over the edge. She held his gaze, her expression one of surprise, as if the orgasm had crept up on her unexpectedly.