Read You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me for Free Online Page B

down his chest, over his abdomen, then stopped when she reached his worn leather belt. When she lowered her eyes she could see the outline of his hard-on because she’d made him hard. It was a concept that Neve couldn’t even begin to process.
    ‘OK, I’ve shown you mine, now you show me yours.’ Max grinned as he tugged free his belt buckle.
    There was a part of Neve that was slowly liquefying on her Cath Kidston duvet cover even though she felt as if she should be running around the room, arms and legs flailing wildly as she emitted high-pitched shrieks of terror.
    Neve knew it was her right to say no at any time during any type of sexual activity. She knew that, but when you were lying on your bed while the sexy, glamorous, experienced man you’d invited back to your flat for the flimsy promise of coffee, even though he was light years out of your league, was slowly unbuttoning his fly, ‘no’ felt like the wrong thing to say.
    If she said no, she’d appear gauche and prudish and a repressed freak who wasn’t even sure whether she was a virgin or not. Besides, virginity wasn’t such a big deal. Celia and Chloe at work had both shucked off the shackles of their maidenhood by the time they were sixteen, and she was twenty-five and she should have got round to doing this years ago, and though having a no-strings sexual encounter hadn’t made it on to her dating to-do list, at least she could stop worrying about it and—
    ‘Look, I don’t have such a great body,’ Neve blurted out. ‘I’m not thin or, like, toned and stuff.’
    Max snorted. ‘I know at least ten women who would kill for curves like yours.’ He patted her knee and let his hand rest there so he could trace patterns on Neve’s skin with the tip of his finger as he began to inch up the hem of her dress with his other hand.
    Neve gritted her teeth but forced herself to remain calm. This wasn’t going to be easy, but she’d made her mind up to do this and she never had to see Max again, especially if she made a solemn vow that she’d never attend another Skirt party.
    ‘C’mon, Neve,’ Max said softly. ‘If you weren’t sexy, then why would I be this hard? Here, feel …’
    Her hand had been resting limply by her side but Max picked it up and placed it on his covered cock. She could feel it twitching, and when she tentatively curled her fingers around its length, it gave a little leap.
    ‘I did that,’ she said incredulously.
    ‘You did that,’ Max said, his other hand sliding up her leg and pushing up her dress – and that was when Neve saw the hem of her slip.
    She was wearing a slip under her dress! She was saved, because she could easily do damage control on her bingo wings, and having sex with your slip on was textbook sexy in a femme fatale , film noir-ish sort of way.
    Neve reached for her zip and slowly inched it down as Max stood up and started unzipping his trousers so there was a stereophonic symphony of rasping metal. They were both staring at each other, eyes widening when Max suddenly stopped, and bent down.
    ‘Seeing me in nothing but my socks would kill the mood,’ he remarked casually as Neve took advantage of the moment to quickly skin out of her dress and press her arms tight to the side of her body so there’d be no unsightly flab on display. Even her breasts looked perky framed by her nicest balconette bra and the black lace edging of her slip.
    And Neve didn’t think she’d ever felt quite so validated as when Max raised his head and gave a long, low whistle when he caught sight of her. ‘God, you look just like Liz Taylor in Butterfield 8 ,’ he said fervently. ‘You have truly amazing tits.’
    ‘They’re OK,’ she agreed shyly, because they did look pretty spectacular at that moment thanks to underwiring and padded cups – and that was all that Max was going to see of them.
    Max didn’t share her shyness. He slid his belt off so his trousers hung low on his hips, then quickly and efficiently