Sure, that was a pretty big and, but there we were with me on his lap anyway, and his bulge was as prominent as my panties were wet.

“What are we doing?” I’d meant that as a thought, but now it was a question that’d officially passed between us.

“Well,” he said while threading his fingers into my hair, “from where I’m sitting, I believe what we’re doing is torturing ourselves.”

Like an involuntary muscle spasm, I shifted forward to create friction between us. “And testing our patience?”

“Mm-hmm,” he said through barely parted lips, his hands going still in my hair. “You could say you’re a pro at testing mine.”

I lifted my hips and made a circular motion, and he immediately took hold of my arms as if preparing to tame a wild mustang to keep me in place. All those years of celibacy and now sitting on top of the reason for that decision himself could make a girl a little wild. Who’d blame me?

“We just talked about this.” He was trying to remind himself of all the reasons to behave, while I did the opposite—reciting all the whys we should say screw it and make love. Not tonight, of course, but preferably a night (or morning) soon.

“I know.” I closed my eyes, unable to stare into his and not crave him all the more. “In my defense, your arousal wasn’t pressed up against me during that conversation the way it is now.”

“And whose fault is that?” The delicious bass of his voice teased my eyes back open and onto him. “Your ass, where is it?” He lifted a brow. “Didn’t we establish on Friday that I’m incapable of not being hard if you’re on my lap, regardless of what we’re talking about?”

I remembered that moment in my bedroom. It felt like last year, not just this past Friday. “Well, are you asking me to get up?”

He brought his hands down to my hips and buried his fingertips into my sides. “No, I enjoy pain. This kind, at least.” He brought his face closer to mine. “But can you handle it?”

The ache between my legs was so intense that maybe I couldn’t. The flush of heat spreading through my body, dampening my panties, was as amazing as it was frustrating. I knew there’d be no relief—not tonight, not down the hall from his family, and certainly not after my confession.

“How far do you allow yourself to go without breaking your vow?” That question rekindled the hope of relief to come.