Free Slate (Breaking the Declan Brothers #2) by Kelly Gendron Page B

her bottom lip, taking a slow scan down my body. My cock kicks against my jeans. Damn, I think she’s considering it. “Listen, all I want is for you to take those boxers off. I’m not going to touch you, promise. I’ll do all the heavy lifting.” I grin as her slanted eyes make it back up to mine. “Come on, you’re not as sweet and innocent as you act. Deep down, you want to do this for me, Rayna. You want to help me. I can see it in your eyes. And, babe, admit it. If I were to drop to my knees and pull down them boxers myself, I’d smell it, too. How bad you want me, it’s seeping from that tight little slit between your legs, isn’t it?”
    She slaps me across the face. Without flinching, I hold my grin. Hell, I’ve been hit a lot harder than that. “Well, I’m sure I deserved that, but now that you got it out of your system, are you ready to do as you keep preaching? You gonna stay and help, or not?”
    She crosses her arms over her chest. “Oh-ho, I’m staying.”
     

CHAPTER ELEVEN

    No man has ever touched himself in front of me. Ever. When Slate announced that he planned to do just that, my panties became instantly wet. The slap was from the shock and the unexpected excitement I got from it, but mostly it was for the cocky grin on his face. He’s right, though. I do want to stay. I’m not sure about helping, but I definitely want to observe. I know what he has hidden in those jeans. It’s impressive, and I get the chance to see his hand on it, stroking himself. I squeeze my thighs together from the thought, as he gets comfortable on the couch. He places an arm behind his head, turns, and with that grin still leveled across his tempting mouth, he looks up at me from beneath hooded lids.
    “If you’re going to stay, then you gotta take those off,” he says, easily pulling off irresistible with his cheek resting on his muscular bicep.
    Gazing at his gorgeous body sprawled out before me my hands reach for the waist of the boxers. I stop. First, I need to make something clear. “I’m not going to fuck you.”
    “No. Not today.” His eyes darken. “Now, do as you’re told and get those damn things off.”
    The sexy demand drifts from my ears straight down to my bare feet. Dammit. I think I just go a little wetter, too. I pull the boxers down my thighs, feeling them slide against my calves before kicking them off to the side. I stand back up, the moisture between my thighs intensifying with every move that I make.
    “Go sit over there,” he gestures with his chin, “in the chair.”
    Okay. I can do that. I’ll be a safe distance away. I walk over and sit down. I go to open my mouth to inquire what’s next, and his finger lifts, stopping me. All righty then, I guess that I’ll just sit back, be quiet, and enjoy the show.
    Slate’s sharp assessing eyes stroll over my body, measuring everything from my curled toes to the hand that I have gripping the arm of the chair. The silent, detailed and sexually charged attention turns me right on.
    His eyes gradually make their way to mine. “Spread your legs.” Again, I go to open my mouth in protest. He raises an eyebrow. I snap my mouth shut and, what the hell. I sway open my legs just a little. “More,” he says.
    And, damn, if his deep command doesn’t get me to spread my legs further apart. My lips down below separate as the wetness from my pussy clings to my thighs. Thankfully, the shirt is long enough to hide the evidence of my arousal. Though my hard, beaded nipples have to be giving me away.
    His hand moves from his head down to his jeans. He pops the button open. I lick my lips. Shit! If I hadn’t blown my cover before, then I have now. Holding the button that he just popped, he looks at me. “You want me to undo my zipper now?”
    I nod my head. No use in trying to be bashful now. It’s what I want, and the look in his eyes tells me that he’s well aware of it.
    “First,” he glances at my naked thighs, “lift your shirt