Free Off the Edge (The Associates) by Carolyn Crane

sensitive skin, she decided it was okay for him to be obvious. More than okay. Go there , she thought. Be obvious. Be totally, stupidly obvious.
    Instead, he moved in the other direction, lower on her thigh, heading toward her knee.
    She loosened her grip. Noooo!
    He flicked his gaze up to hers as he slid a hand down to her sheer sock, touching it. Then he slid his hand back up to the tender inside of her thigh. “You’re so pale here.” Again he slid his hand down over the nylon part. “And then this nylon. It’s absolutely ruthless.”
    “The nylon socks? Are ruthless?”
    He gave her a devilish smile. “Ruthless.” He stroked his heavy hand from bare thigh to nylon. She loved the way the sensation changed when he did that. Bare skin to nylon. Nylon to bare skin. Heat built between her legs. She clenched the muscles between her thighs to stop the feeling overload.
    It didn’t stop the feeling overload.
    “The elastic,” he said, tracing a finger over the brown band just below her right knee. “These tight elastic bands. Hot and a little bit evil.”
    She could barely breathe. “The elastic? That’s your favorite place?”
    “Not exactly.” He hooked a finger over the elastic band and pulled it out. Angry pink lines furrowed her skin where the elastic had grabbed tight to her calf for hours. She got the crazy sense that he was exposing a tender secret.
    Then he blew. The sudden puff of air was cool bliss on the tortured little band of skin. “Oh, my God,” she panted, clutching his hair way too hard. He’d found and invaded the tenderest part of her.
    Then he kissed it, lips like silk.
    It was such a forbidden place to kiss. And unexpected, too—that made it way dirtier.
    “Do it again,” she begged, startled to hear her own voice say that.
    He smiled up at her, just a little bit evil.
    He wouldn’t do it again.
    She held his hair tighter, every nerve ending taut.
    He pulled the elastic out further. What was he going to do now?
    She trembled when he leaned in again and dragged his lip along the band of indents. Or maybe that was his tongue. He was like a dirty and unstoppable force of nature.
    “This, then,” he said. “Would be one of my favorite places on you.”
    Maxwell. He’d turned her on and taken over her senses, and he hadn’t even gotten above the knee.
    “I can take the socks off,” she rasped.
    “God no.” He let the elastic snap back over her skin.
    She jolted up from the shock of it. “Ow,” she said.
    “Ow?”
    What was he doing to her? “Ow,” she said, breathing fast. Maybe she wasn’t getting enough air. The moon seemed too bright. She didn’t care, because it was good. “Do it again.”
    With a sly look, he hooked his fingers under the elastic of both her nylon socks now. 
    Then he shoved her legs apart.
    Her blood raced as he kissed up, up, up her thigh, keeping her legs apart, fingers in contact with the dirty, secret tattoo of tortured skin he was so into. Every molecule in her was begging him to hurry now, to kiss her throbbing, heated core.
    She sucked in a breath when he paused at the edge of her panties. “Show me another place,” she begged.
    He pushed her legs apart even further now and pressed his lips to her sex, an exciting pressure through the thin fabric panel. “Oh,” she said.
    “Is this okay?” he said into her core.
    The vibration of his voice nearly sent her over. “Yes. Especially if you talk again.”
    “Like this?” he rumbled.
    “Yes,” she hissed.
    His low, sexy laugh sent a wave of pleasure up through her. She felt something hard—teeth, grazing her lightly. Then he straightened up, gaze dark, and kissed her belly, her neck.
    She grabbed his head. He put her hands back. “Sit on your hands.”
    “On my hands?”
    “Do it,” he whispered. He gave her a stern look. He was used to women worshipping him, doing his bidding, she realized. Well, she was all in, dammit.
    He drew near, kissing her, clever hands unzipping the back of