Touch & Go Read Online Free PDF Page A

really going to sell it, Ava,
I’d make you blush
. Get you to tell me what color panties you’re wearing beneath this dress—the lacy dark blue ones, I’m betting? Ask you, when I put my mouth here”—he pressed an openmouthed kiss beneath her ear, drawing against the tender spot with the lightest suction before returning to nuzzle her lobe—“if it makes those pretty panties
wet
?”
    “Sam.”
The way his name slipped past her lips like it was some kind of plea should have had her backtracking, trying to reinforce the friendly state of their relationship, and at any other time, it would have. But Sam was doing this on purpose, so what was the harm in giving him what he was after?
    “Jesus, Ava, that blush is going to be the end of me. I shouldn’t be able to make you do it. I shouldn’t know I
can
make you.”
    Just like she shouldn’t know that after all the years of believing this man was totally immune to her, suddenly she had the power to affect him. A power that was drugging, addicting, and had her desperately wanting to test the limits. She wanted to find out how far she could push before he cracked. Before he wouldn’t
let
her push anymore.
    Still tucked back to front in Sam’s hold, she turned her head to rub one cheek against his chest. “Then you probably don’t want to know about the state of my panties, Sam.”
    It was a challenge. A dare.
    A bold leap from the harmless games of flirtation they’d been playing upstairs.
    Sam tensed, his slow-roaming hand stilling over her hip, and she wondered if, that quick, the limit had been reached. Only then his fingers began to close, his grip on her tightening in a way that had her heart starting to skip.
    “Tell me.”
    She barely recognized the voice that reached her ears; it was so low, so rough. Nothing easy or laid-back about it. And
it was for her.
    “You’re right. I’m wearing the midnight-blue.” A lacy set he’d found within days of her purchasing them while he’d been fingering through her stuff, waiting for her to find a missing sneaker. A set he’d made all sorts of teasing, appreciative noises about, just to get a rise out of her. “And as for their being wet?”
    Wet
was an understatement. She’d gotten wet at that first chaste kiss up on the terrace. Pushed into sodden at the mere mention they kiss for real, and hit drenched at the first sweep of his tongue. Now, with Sam barely breathing behind her, his thick fingers balling into the fabric of her dress, pulling the skirt tight around her?
    “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to wear them again,” she whispered back to him, adding a sinuous little shift of her body against his. “After tonight…I think they’re
ruined.
”
    Not that she cared. They’d been happily sacrificed on the altar of fantasies-come-to-life, and under the safety net of convincing Stalker Steven she wasn’t available, no less.
    She waited for the baiting comeback. For Sam to say something. Do something. Only instead of lightening the mood or pushing their game further, the only words Sam had for her were, “Get in the car, Ava.”
    Confused, she blinked and then noticed the doorman standing beside a Yellow Cab, waving them in.
    Game over. Or it would be within the next several seconds, anyway.
    Body still thrumming with the awareness Sam had woken in her, Ava sighed moving forward, because that’s what she did. Always. And like always, Sam was there with her, the reassuring warmth of his hand at the small of her back as they crossed to the waiting cab. She thought he might kiss her once more. She hoped for it. But at the door, he stood back, waiting. Then, once she was situated, he climbed in beside her, shutting the door.
    The air in the cab seemed still. Heavy with all the things they were going to need to say to put the night behind them.
    Sam raked his fingers through his hair, staring forward as they pulled into traffic. His hands balled at his sides, only to flex open when, with a curse,