Chapter 72: What Are You Doing?
Her heart thundered. Was she crazy? Probably. But she was his fiancée, wasn’t she? That wasn’t just some empty word—it meant something. Didn’t she have the right to want him whenever, however? Still, doubt knotted her insides. Would he think her desperate?
She tried again, this time wiggling her ass just a little, disguising the motion as if she were adjusting for comfort.
For a second, she thought she’d succeeded. His arm tightened fractionally around her waist, his body going taut, and her pulse spiked in victory. But then... nothing. His breathing evened out again, slow and maddeningly steady, as if he hadn’t noticed at all.
She rolled her eyes so hard it hurt. Who the hell sleeps this deeply? Was this man made of stone? She wanted to shake him awake, or better yet, climb on top of him until he couldn’t possibly ignore her. Instead, she glanced down at where his hand dangled lazily across her stomach.
Just the sight of his long fingers, sent another pulse of heat through her.
Carefully, breath held, she shifted herself lower until his hand hovered right in front of her breasts. She hesitated, guilt and desire tangling in her chest, then slowly guided his fingers up to cup her. The contact was electric, enough to draw a sharp, ragged breath from her throat before she could stop it.
Her nipples tightened instantly against his palm, and her whole body lit up.
His hand twitched reflexively, as if his sleeping body instinctively knew how to respond, and his thumb brushed across her hardened peak in a featherlight stroke. The unintentional touch nearly undid her.
Her thighs pressed together as she fought back a whimper. She shouldn’t be doing this. She knew that.
She shifted her thighs together, the friction giving her a flash of relief, and in the motion her ass brushed against him again. This time, his low, gruff voice broke through the darkness. "What are you doing?"
"Nothing," she blurted, far too quickly, snatching her hand away from his fingers as if she’d been caught stealing. Her cheeks flamed even though the room was pitch black. She suddenly wished she could dive under the mattress and vanish.
"Hey," he murmured. "I’m not complaining. Just thought... with what happened tonight..."
"Oh God, just touch me already," she snapped, covering her embarrassment with sharpness. Anger was safer than vulnerability, easier than admitting how badly she wanted him.
"Nope." Winn’s lips grazed the nape of her neck as he pressed a lazy kiss there. His refusal was maddening, and she could practically hear the smirk in his voice.
"What?" she demanded, twisting her head slightly.
"You’re going to have to take what you need, precious."
"What?" she said again, more flustered this time.
"Take what you need," he repeated, unyielding, his lips brushing against her ear now.
"What does that even mean?" she whispered, frustrated.
"It means," his hand tightened at her waist for emphasis, "you started already... so lead me where you want."
"I’ll just sleep then."
"That’s what I was doing," he teased, "before someone began sexually molesting me."
"Ugh, I did not!" she hissed, mortified.
Winn chuckled. "Again... I’m not complaining." His chest rumbled against her back, and the vibration teased her as much as his words did.
She scoffed loudly. In an exaggerated motion, she deliberately wiggled her ass again, feigning that she was trying to find a comfortable position. The hard press of his erection against her curves was unmistakable, and satisfaction bloomed across her face. Her small, triumphant smile widened.
They lay in silence for a while, each waiting, each pretending not to wait. Ivy’s mind was a storm of frustration and yearning. She wanted him to just take her. He wanted her to admit her need, to be the one to bridge the gap.
Finally, her patience snapped. With a huff, she grabbed his fingers, still draped idly across her stomach, and guided them upward until they cupped her breasts.
She felt the rumble of his chuckle vibrate from deep in his chest, pressed against her back. "There she is," he murmured. The way he said it—proud, teasing, and tender all at once—made her entire body ignite.
"Oh... fuck you," she spat.
"Please do," Winn replied without missing a beat. The smirk in his voice made her whole body flush.
Her fingers clenched around his hand on her breast. For a long moment she froze, paralyzed by both desire and the dizzying weight of control he’d just shoved onto her. He wasn’t moving, wasn’t pushing, wasn’t guiding. He was simply there, a wall of heat at her back, waiting for her to decide how far she wanted to go.
"Touch me," she said finally.
"Where?" His lips brushed against the sensitive shell of her ear.
Her breath hitched. "My breasts."
His fingers flexed, cupping her fully now, kneading with a slow, deliberate pressure. She gasped, arching into him, and he groaned softly at her response but still didn’t take over. His thumb brushed across her nipple, teasing, circling until her body shivered against his.
"Harder," she demanded, surprising herself with the rawness in her tone.
"As you wish," he murmured, pinching lightly, just enough to draw a sharp gasp from her lips. He obeyed perfectly, nothing more, nothing less.
The heat pooled low in her stomach, and Ivy’s thighs clenched together helplessly. He was letting her lead, but the temptation of his hard body pressed against her back, the rigid length straining against her ass, was driving her insane.
"Kiss me," she ordered, twisting in his arms to face him.
Winn’s mouth crashed onto hers instantly, obeying without hesitation. His kiss was deep, wet, demanding in its hunger yet restrained in its execution. He was still following her lead, letting her set the pace as his tongue tangled with hers.
"Take off my dress," she whispered against his lips.
His hands obeyed immediately, peeling the thin fabric up her body with infuriating slowness, knuckles grazing over her heated skin. When he tossed it aside, his eyes devoured her. Still, he didn’t move further.