Hands On by Meg Harris Read Free Book Online Page A

Lora knew that it was time for him to
move on, but she didn't think he'd quite managed it yet.
    Poor guy. She could totally relate.
    Her nipples stiffened, hardening so
that they rubbed against the lace of her bra, and she absently reached up with
her other hand and touched them, too. Her hand moved faster against the crotch
of her denim shorts. She wished she could take them off, because the seam was
kind of in the way, but she'd be embarrassed enough if Mason happened to notice
her presence-- and he just might, because she was starting to pant. If Mason
found her standing here half naked, that would just be humiliating beyond
belief. Lora wasn't fond of humiliation.
    Another groan slid from between
Mason’s parted lips. His eyes were half-shut, his long legs sprawled out in
front of him, his powerful body slouched back against the cushions of his old
navy-blue couch, and she could hear the harsh, unsteady sound of his breathing
from here. He was obviously totally turned on.
    She wondered why he didn't unzip
his jeans, grab himself, and finish in a rush, the way most guys would. Maybe,
like her, he was worried about getting caught with his pants down, literally.
    Or maybe he just wasn't in a hurry.
Maybe he liked to go slow.
    If so, he was a man after her own heart.
    She was a hard time keeping it slow
right now, though, because the burning between her legs just kept getting
hotter and hotter, until she thought she might just catch on fire. She moved
her hand a little harder, a little faster, and bit her lip to hold back a moan.
    He arched his head back against the
cushions, and she stared at the tendons in his neck, the faint shadow of dark
stubble along his jawline and throat. She wanted to walk across to him and kiss
his exposed throat. She wanted to rip off his shirt and put her hands and mouth
all over him.
    She reminded herself firmly that he
was masturbating to a picture of someone else, quite likely his ex-wife. It
would be humiliating enough if he caught her standing here touching herself.
But throwing herself at Mason when he was jerking off to a picture of someone
else would be the ultimate in humiliation.
    She'd done her best to back off
from Mason a while ago, because it had become evident that he was never going
to let Ashley go. They’d been married for seven years, and had dated since high
school, and Lora knew deep down that she could never compete with a history
like that.
    But it was okay, because her body
was stupid, but she wasn't. She couldn't seem to get over him physically, but
she was completely over him, emotionally.
    Really. She was. Totally.
    His eyes drifted shut, and she
admired the long, dark lashes, staring in a way she could never let herself
stare when he was aware of her presence. No other man on Earth had ridiculously
long eyelashes like that. She was willing to bet on it.
    She watched his hand move a little
faster, watched his hips rising to meet the movements of his hand. His forehead
was beginning to glint with beads of sweat, and she wondered if he was sweating
everywhere. She thought of his chest, sleek and smooth and gleaming with a fine
sheen of perspiration, and the image was almost enough to make her come, all on
its own.
    His eyelashes fluttered, as if they
were very heavy, as if he had to force them open. He looked at the picture he
held, his other hand moving faster and faster.
    "Lora," he murmured.
    Taken utterly by surprise, Lora
gave a startled gasp, and his head suddenly jerked up. He stared at her, his
dark eyes wide with shock and embarrassment. She stared back, feeling just as
embarrassed. At least he couldn't see the location of her hand from here, and
didn't know that she'd been just as, well, busy as he'd been.
    She couldn't speak, couldn't even
manage to open her mouth. Confusion and shock and bewilderment all buzzed
together in her brain.
    Oh,
my God , she thought wildly. It's me.
That's a photo of me .

 
    Chapter 2
    Lora had never seen Mason so red.
His face