Trace of Innocence (No Control Book 3)

Chapter 66

(No Control - 66. One Thing)

"I love how you can just click your fingers and get exactly what you want," she says, walking slowly towards me.

"Perks of being rich and famous," I tease. "I didn't think that ever applied to you, though."

Since when have I ever been able to click my fingers and get what I want from her?

"Are you kidding?" she says, in disbelief. "One smirk from you and I'm wrapped around your little finger."

I love it when she admits stuff like this. It does wonders for my confidence.

I gently turn us both around and push her back against the wall where I was just leaning.

"I'd rather your legs were wrapped around my waist," I murmur, my face inches from hers. I can smell her perfume and it makes me feel safe and comfortable.

I brush my lips against hers and press my body up against her, squeezing her small waist gently. She runs her fingers through my hair and her tongue slides against mine in the most erotic way. I'm getting hard.

She sighs softly and I press my boner against her, letting her know what she does to me.

"Harry Styles!" she chides me, with a smirk. "What is that you're poking me with?"

I dip my head and plant a few soft kisses on her neck, making her body tremble. "Do you want to see?" I ask.

"I don't need to see to know what it is," she breathes.

"So why did you ask?" I whisper, and kiss her again so she melts against me, breathing hard.

Her hands slip into my jeans pockets and she pinches my bum and pulls me towards her so my boner digs into her again.

"Mmmm, squidgey," she remarks, but I'm too turned on to care too much.

"Stop calling me that," I murmur.

"I wasn't calling you that," she grins. "I was talking about your bum."

"You called me Squidge in front of your brother," I remember with embarrassment. And he kept calling me a knight in shining armour. Why am I always the butt of everyone's jokes? No pun intended.

"So? It suits you," she says breezily, and kisses me again, her fingers trailing across my chest this time, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Our kisses become faster and more urgent, and I can feel myself getting carried away, dropping my hands to her thighs and gently gliding my fingers up her left leg.

"What are you doing?" she pants.

Seriously?

"What do you think I'm doing?" I tease.

"Sailing close to the wind!" she says, her voice all high-pitched and squeaky. "What if someone sees?"

For fuck's sake. We're completely hidden. Who's going to see?

"Not this again," I mutter, pulling away from her.

"No, not like that," she says quickly, and I look into her eyes. "Well... sort of like that," she corrects herself. "I mean there is a photographer in the bar and the street outside is crawling with paparazzi. Do you really want a photo of you with your hand up my dress plastered all over the front page of every newspaper tomorrow morning? Because I don't."

"No one is going to take a picture of us," I say dismissively, and try to kiss her again but she pushes me away.

"I'm sorry, have we stepped into some sort of parallel universe?" she frowns. "'No one is going to take a picture of us' ?! That's all they ever do!"